#Orders for Outdoor events are taken

[kitchen-on-fire]

[lady-of-tearshed]

Unprofessional duties

Cassian x Reader

Cassian Week 2024

Day 7: Free Day

@cassianappreciationweek

Summary: You and Cassian are both generals from different Courts. Him, the famous general of the Night Court, you, the skilled and strong general of Day Court. What would happen if Helion, nosey High Lord that he is, ordered you to take the night off and enjoy the festivities with your sexy general? 😏💕

Warnings: Smut below the cut, penetrative sex, outdoor sex, mention of alcohol, jealousy, angst, light swearing, unprotected sex.

Word count: 3,590k

Dividers by @tsunami-of-tears

You were magnificent, breathtaking. The whole room fell silent as you appeared in the tall golden archway. It was as if your beauty had taken away the breath of every Faes in this ballroom. 

The white chiffon and satin fabrics shone like a fine layer of dew delicately sprayed atop your body. The soft gold accents on your white dress matched with Helion's outfit, the colors and style representing the Day Court's traditional fashion. 

Your attire left plenty, too much in your honest opinion, of uncovered skin, leaving little to the imagination. But your complaints about the too high slits at the sides, your exposed back, and the risqué dip of the front of your dress were in vain. Helion had insisted that this dress was the one you absolutely needed to wear by his side tonight. "To represent the Day Court's couture at its finest," he had said. 

Your attire also gave you a pretty imposing bearing.

You walked down the stairs beside Helion, your entrance not going unnoticed, just as your High Lord had planned by arriving late. Helion loved people's attention, and most of all loved to make you feel all flustered by forcing you to join him in these attention seeking events. 

Helion bent down, his lips brushing over the shell of your ear unnecessarily as he whispered in it, “Don't forget to smile…” His amused tone made you want to roll your eyes and sigh, but you held back. After all, you owed him respect. He was your High Lord, and you, his general. 

“I am smiling,” You throw him a dry, thin lipped grin. “See?” 

“You were smiling wider than that last week when you came back from your… professional meeting with the Night Court's general. Or after that private meeting you had with him the month before that,” He drawls, halting to pick up a chalice of wine from a passing servant. “I should give you more work, considering how cheerful and… satisfied it makes you feel afterwards.”

Your cheeks were burning, and the heat of Day Court was not the main reason for your suddenly very flushed and hot cheeks. You clear your throat. “Maybe now would be a good time to greet our guests, My Lord.” You mutter, your eyes scanning every corner of the room for any threat. Instinct or avoidance of the embarrassing discussion, you weren't sure. 

Helion snickers. “I bet that general of yours loves when you order him around like that in bed.” His eyes wandered over your exposed skin… and the unhealed hickeys that still lingered on multiple parts of your skin. 

“He's not my general.” You hissed, praying to the Mother that no one was paying any attention to your discussion. 

Helion shrugged his shoulders as if he had not a care in the world of your justification. He didn't need any justification from you, at all. Your job as Day's general was done, very well done, and that was all he asked from you, really. What you did, and in whose bed you did it, was the least of his concerns, as long as your job was done, and that you remained happy and healthy. 

His trust in you was indestructible, rugged with centuries of friendship and decades of your loyal services. You had served him by training and leading his army since the early beginning of his ascension as a High Lord. 

The High Lord climbed the three little steps of the dais, and stood in front of his throne. The crowd of laughing, drinking, and celebrating Fae's of all courts fell silent once more. Helion has never had to resort to violence or cruelty to earn respect from his pairs. His charisma, and impressive knowledge of spells and magic made him undeniably powerful enough to be taken seriously, even as a relatively new High Lord. 

“What a pleasure to see you all gathered to celebrate under my roof,” Helion’s hand was placed above his heart as he took in the faces of the multiple Faes present tonight for this gathering. “I won't be long with my little discour, since you were all invited to celebrate, not hear my melodious voice.” 

The crowd shared a laugh, and Helion smirked, letting himself appreciate the moment for a while. The war against Hybern had been rough, some relations between the Courts were still tense, people had died. Family members, children, friends, lovers… People needed to celebrate, to laugh, to find light and happiness again in this fucked up world. That was the reason for this gathering tonight. Helion wanted to bring joy into this world again, at least for one night. 

“I wanted to thank everyone in this room for their implication, as big or little as it was, in this cruel but necessary war against Hybern,” Helion lifted his chalice toward the crowd. “To us, all of us,” His eyes landed on you, and his eyes twinkled with all of the gratitude he had for your service. You bowed your head slowly, your heart swelling with pride and gratitude to serve such a kind-hearted ruler. “To happiness, for all of us. And to a better world.” 

His eyes landed back on the crowd, on all these people gathered here to celebrate the end of a dark period, and the beginning of an hopefully brighter future. Helion lifted his drink to his lips and drank down the burgundy liquid, everyone doing the same. When he gulped down the final drop of wine in his chalice, he wiped his lips and shouted, arms open, smiling widely. “Now, let the festivities begin!” 

A warm, melodic symphony flew from the musicians instruments. People started laughing again, and dancing. The females twirled and whirled in sync with the music, the fabric of their fancy dresses shining under the Fae lights. A genuine smile spread on your lips, and you allowed yourself to get lost in the music, only for a moment.

Helion’s large hand rested on your lower back as he came down from the dais. “You’re allowed to have fun too, you know,” He chuckled, looking around the ballroom. “You have put at least two hundred soldiers on guard duty tonight.” His chin jerked in the direction where various disguised sentries were stationed. 

“That is the bare minimum to assure your safety, My Lord,” You looked up at him. “It is my duty to-”

“Well, then, since you're being so stubborn…” Helion sighed, shaking his head as he met your gaze. “I order you to be off-duty tonight. And I also order you, as your High Lord,” His hand held your chin, forcing your gaze on his. “To let loose and have fun.”

“But-”

“Why don't you go join your general now, mh?” He removed his hand from your face, and gently nudged your shoulder. 

“That wouldn't be a professional thing to do now, My Lord…” You blushed, knowing damn well the line between work and personal affairs had been crossed plenty of times now with Cassian. 

“You're off duty. Go. Or should I make this an order, too?” His eyebrow rose. You growled, but didn't answer. Your shoulder slumped in defeat, making Helion grin. “That's what I thought. Now, go.” 

Cauldron damn him, wicked male that he was… 

—

Cassian was about to lose it. His stupid shirt felt too tight, this place was too hot, and looking at Helion’s hands touching your soft skin made him sweaty. His siphons were glowing bright, drawing attention from his brother standing still at his side. 

“Are you okay?” Azriel asked silently, his shadows swirling around Cassian’s tensed body in search of the cause of his troubles. 

Cassian batted the shadows away with a hand. “Don't ask unnecessary questions now, will you.” He mumbled, stroking a hand over his face. 

Azriel’s eyes narrowed, but his head pivoted in your direction when a shadow discreetly brushed the shell of his ear. The shadowsinger chuckled as he looked over at you standing beside Helion, but his eyes quickly snapped down to his boots when you started to walk away from Helion. 

She's coming over here, the shadows repeated over and over again as they danced frantically around their master. 

“I need a drink,” Azriel snapped and quickly walked away.

Cassian only stared at him, confusion written all over his face. Azriel usually didn't drink at all in these kind of public events- 

“Hi.” Your voice interrupted his thoughts.

Cassian's warm hazel eyes darted over your body, taking in every inch of exposed skin. His hands were shaking from holding back to lift you up into his arms and pin you against the closest wall, to rub his palms over where Helion had touched you, to erase him from you. His tongue was burning from the need to taste every inch of you over and over again. He was desperate to hear your whimpers and moans over and over again… 

He needed to breathe. And answer to you. Get a grip of yourself! His inside voice seemed to yell. 

“Y/N, sweet dove!” Tarquin's voice boomed from behind you before Cassian could regain his ability to speak. You smiled politely at the turquoise eyed male, though the nickname made your cheeks flush. Tarquin had never ceased calling you his sweet done, the nickname had followed you since your childhood. Tarquin's hand squeezed your shoulder gently, politely, but Cassian had to bite his tongue to keep his fury from exploding at the sight of another male’s hand on you. 

“I've heard you were off duty tonight, what a pleasant surprise!” Tarquin huffed a laugh, almost incredulous that you've actually accepted to let your duty aside, even just for one night. 

“Yeah,” Your answer was sharp, so was your smile. You were honestly a bit annoyed that your moment with Cassian has been interrupted. “Surprising, huh…” You mutter, begging for Tarquin to walk away, despite his kindness and good intentions. 

The silence grew heavy between the three of you, the air filled with electricity. “Was I interrupting anything?” Tarquin questioned.

Cassian's jaw clenched. “No,” He quickly emptied his glass of wine. “Have a good night, General, Tarquin.” He answered coldly, bowed his head, and walked away. 

The golden thread joining his soul to yours pulsed harder with every step he took away from you. The bond kept singing beneath Cassian’s chest, it seemed like it was calling for you, begging to be heard, felt, noticed. Feeling it left a constant ache in Cassian’s chest. 

Tarquin was an excellent dancer. A good man, too. Polite, caring… A true gentleman. 

So why was it that his hand on you felt… Wrong. 

You had politely excused yourself at the end of the dance, pretending that your head was just a little dizzy from all of the spinning and swirling all around the dancefloor in Tarquin's arms. 

Your head was indeed dizzy, but not because of the dancing. Or the Fae wine. It was because of all of the thoughts spinning like an endless wheel inside your head. 

“Have a good night, General, Tarquin.”

General…

Not his usual “My sweet General of Day”, or even a flirtatious “Lady Y/N”... General. Her title had sounded cold and distant from Cassian's mouth. 

His mouth…

You shook the image of all of the parcels of your skin his mouth has been ravishing this past year, instead trying to find out the reason for Cassian's sudden mood-shift. 

Had you done anything to hurt him, or upset him? You tried to think, really tried. But nothing came to your mind. 

The more you tried to figure it out, the more your chest tightened. You brushed your palm over your chest, trying to ease the feeling away without success. 

You needed a drink, you were too tense, and you cursed Cassian for making you feel all sorts of things. You had met him only a few decades ago and last year… you and him had crossed the line between work and personal stuff. You had started to fuck on occasions, to release tension. And since then, you hadn't been able to appreciate any other male presence, the thought of him haunting your mind day and night. 

A server passed by you as if on cue, and offered you a drink that you enthusiastically accepted. The wine burned your dry throat as you swallowed it down, the coolness of the glass feeling blissful on your lips. 

You stared at the still dancing crowd, Tarquin still waiting for you in the distance. 

But you couldn't go back. You needed to see him, to see Cassian. So you followed the magic force pulling you to him like a magnet. 

What a fucking coward mate that he was, running away with his tail tucked between his legs. 

Cassian was hunched over the railing of one of the balconies of Day Court Palace, where he had found refuge from the roaring music of the festivities still going on inside. 

He should've stayed with you, and fought for your attention. He should've scared any male away from you, but it wasn't his place to do this. 

Because he didn't deserve you. He didn't deserve to be your mate. It wasn't right for him to stand in your way. Even if it was hard to admit, and that his instinct was urging him to rip the male to shreds, you deserved a male like Tarquin. A good male, a High Lord. 

Not a bastard-born Illyrian brute.

The large doors leading to the balcony opened in Cassian's back. He didn't even need to turn around to know who it was, the draft of air carrying your scent. His nostrils flared, and he had to control himself from throwing his head back and moaning at how addictive you smelled. 

“What are you doing here, General…” Cassian hissed, his words meaning to hit where it would hurt. He kept his eyes fixed on the calm ocean on the horizon. 

You halted, standing halfway to the railing. “Since when do you mind when I'm around?” Your eyes narrowed as you kept walking slowly towards him, analyzing. “And since when do you call me General?”

He huffed. “Isn't that what you are? What we are?”

“Is it?” You rested your hands on the cold railing, your hand mere millimeters from his. The tension was palpable, but you gulped down the feeling, preparing for your next question. “What are we, Cassian?” 

The pleading in your voice ripped his heart to shred, and his face crumbled. What were they?

Mate, Mate, Mate…

He couldn't tell her, it would ruin everything. Was everything already ruined? She couldn't know, she couldn't-

A pull, strong, precise, tugged his rib. His face pivoted, his wide hazel eyes meeting yours. Your face was surprisingly collected and calm. Was it just a coincidence?

Cassian tugged back, and the response was almost immediate. It sent shivers up his pine. He couldn't think rationally anymore. “What are we, Cassian?” You repeated. 

His hand flew to your hip, his other arm caging you against the railing. He hadn't even realized he had moved. “Mates… We're mates.” He growled. “You're my mate.” His nose brushed against yours. Cassian was desperate to feel you, smell you, taste you… 

Mostly he needed to hear you say it back, to assure him that this was real. That you were his, and he was yours. That you wanted him.

You smiled, your chest heaving fast as your heart was beating wildly from the proximity. Your hand reached his cheek, stroking it, feeling the stubble on his jaw scratching gently against your palm. 

“I'm your mate, Cassian,” You confirmed, your voice barely over a whisper. Your words sent Cassian's body ablaze, the bond thrumming madly in both of your chests. 

You unfolded your left hand, and opened it, palm up, between you and Cassian. A single grape, not much, but it wasn't like you had the time, or the desire, to wait any longer to seal the bond. “Will you take me as yours?” You smiled shakily, the nerves in your body trembling from the anticipation. 

The bond roared in Cassian's fuzzy mind. He brought your palm to his lips, and slipped the grapes into his mouth. His lips brushed light kisses against the inside of your wrist as his teeth sank into the fruit, the juice flowing into his mouth. He hummed in delight, and swallowed.

Cassian stared into your eyes, and allowed himself to drown into the beautiful abyss of them. Your pupils were wide, so wide that Cassian could see the reflection of the twinkling stars dancing in them. If you were the last thing he'd get to see before passing away, he would die a happy male.

“Cassian?” 

Your voice snapped him out of his contemplation, and yanked him back into reality. Before you could question him furthermore about what was going on in that beautiful mind of his, his lips crashing on yours. 

You tilted your head back and moved one arm around his neck to hold yourself up. Your knees were wobbling, the heat and desire coursing through your body made it very difficult to stay on your feet. 

Cassian hands hauled your ass up, settling you on the cold railing, and pushed your dress up. You blindly reached for the ties of his trousers, your fingers shaking with pure, raw, desire. Cassian's skilled tongue exploring your mouth made you lose all of your senses. You didn't care about where you were, and what consequences would come if you were to be caught. All you could think about was how much you needed him inside of you, now. 

Cassian's cock sprung free, slapping against his shirt when was released from the confines of his pants. You stroked his length, and a breath caught in your throat when you realized how it was already coated with precum. 

Cassian bit your lower lip and hissed. His hand snapped to your wrist, keeping it still. “Play later, need you now.” He muttered against your lips, a playful smirk growing on his lips. 

His fingers quickly slid your underwear to the side. Your hand aligned his cock to your core, and in the next instant, he was sheathed in you. 

“Gods,” Cassian moaned, tilting his head back as your inner walls squeezed his nestled cock. His eyes snapped back to yours. His hips bucked, he started pounding rapidly into you, not wasting any time to claim you. He wanted to fill you with his cum until your cunt milked dry. “You're taking me so well, sunshine.” 

“Like always.” You taunted him with a sly grin, wrapping your legs around his hips to bring him closer, deeper.

His tip brushed against that spot, and your nails dug into his shoulders. Gods, he felt amazing. 

It wasn't that the other times you and Cassian had sex wasn't great, no. It was always fantastic, but this… this felt different. The frenzy of the newly established mating bond coursed through your body like a soft caress. 

Cassian was yours. Your mate. Yours, yours, yours. 

Your thighs shook at the thought, and your nails dug into the muscles of his back. Cassian held you tighter against his chest. If he wasn't, you would've certainly slipped from your spot on the railing and fallen off the balcony. 

“Come for me sunshine,” He growled against your ear, nibbling the sensitive skin. Your vision faded to black, blinded by your orgasm spiraling through your body. “That’s it… Fuck– I love the way your face twitches when you come all over my cock.” 

You cried out his name like a desperate prayer to the stars. Cassian's thrusts began to turn sloppy and irregular. His fingers dug into your hips, and he crashed your lips against his with his other hand. You could feel his cock pulsing as he fucked you balls deep. Cassian came, his warm semence filling you up completely. 

He pampered your face with soft kisses, and rubbed your back slowly while your body still trembled, recovering from your strong orgasm. Slowly, to your displeasure, Cassian pulled out, his semen leaking from your core dripped all over your inner thighs. 

You had been satisfied. That session only would've been enough, usually. But…

You felt empty. Needed more. The bond thrummed beneath your chest, your body was burning up with desire, lust, passion.

Cassian settled you back down on your feet, one hand on your hips to hold you still against him, the other palming your ass. He kissed your forehead, and you nuzzled against his chest, taking his scent in. 

“Mh,” His chest rumbled, and his hand squeezed your ass harder. “Tell your High Lord you'll be off duty for…” He looked into your eyes, a wicked grin forming on his lips as he pretended to think. “I'd say at least a few weeks.”

Cassian bent over to kiss your lips slowly, his stretched out, already ready for take-off. “Yeah? And where are we going, mate.” 

His cock twitched against your barely clothed stomach. “Somewhere I’ll be able to worship my mate properly. Not over some Day Court's railing,” His thumb brushed your lower lip. “We wouldn't want to destroy another building from your precious High Lord's Court… right?” 

You slapped his chest playfully, then wrapped your arms around his neck, ready for take-off. “Hurry up, my sweet General. And take me to a proper bed.” You smiled brightly, readying yourself for the eventful weeks to come. 

Silently, as your mate flew you through the skies, the full moon shining above your heads, you thanked the Mother for having blessed you with a mate. With your General. 

Acotar Taglist: @lilah-asteria @mybestfriendmademe

Cassian Taglist: @ladybookstan @acotar-lover

[dani-dance]

Night Sara (on earth) @ Fable & Fantasy 2024 (Sunday)

📍🗓️ Emmen, June 23, 2024

These photos are taken from a video I took at the festival! It’s why the angle is sometimes a bit frog-eye’s view :D

I didn’t get recognized this day, but I did get several “oh-my-god-you-look-so-cool”’s which is just as worth it!

Unlike comic con, I went to this event on my own so I mostly had to take my own pictures! (though someone did notice me taking this video and offered to take some pictures of me! I’m not going to post those online, however)

I might just be paranoid but I do think I look a bit tired in these pictures. To be honest, I was. Comic con had been a lot the previous day and Fable & Fantasy is almost entirely an outdoors event, and it was a really hot day. I still like how they came out tho!

I’ve gone to Fable & Fantasy annually since 2022, and it’s always a ton of fun! It’s gotten bigger each year! I’ve got some new dice, played a oneshot in the RPG-cafe, and had some great food!

Also, this year is the first year I got to see the band Plunder live! It was a deciding factor in which day I’d go to comic con and which day to Fable & Fantasy, and it was so worth it. It was so much fun, I was on the dance floor for the full hour (and longer)! The wooden dancefloor was great and sturdy and almost provided it’s own percussion with all the dancing :D Super good atmosphere and really high energy!

Plunder makes and plays almost exclusively Dutch songs, but I’m a firm believer in not needing to know a language in order to enjoy music, so if you enjoy pirate-y partyfolk/folk rock I highly recommend checking out their songs!

[ashleyfanfic]

Thank you for the NSFW recs! When you have the time, I would love to hear your favourite Jonerys slowburn fics 🔥

Oh slow burn. Alright, so full confession, I usually don't have the time for slow burn. It's infuriating sometimes because I'm like FUCKING KISS EACH OTHER and then they don't and it makes my anxiety fucking sky rocket!

BUUUUUT that isn't to say that there aren't fics out there that nail it to me. This is a small list of fics off the top of my head. Granted, most of these are modern AU because I guess, as a whole, this fandom just decided we're just gonna make them fuck right off the bat cause they both deserve it. I mean, there are a few that canon divergent - but show/book Jon/Dany deserved to fuck each other until they collapse. So, with that in mind, here they are in no particular order: (M for modern AU - C for canon divergent) Westeros' Most Eligible Bachelor by @muttpeeta - M After one too many public scandals, Prince Jon Targaryen agrees to be the new star of "Westeros' Most Eligible Bachelor." He just wants to clean up his act and change the public's perception of him as the black sheep of the family, but he might just get more than he bargained for. Enter contestant: Daenerys Targaryen. His aunt.

You Can Never Be Mine by @muttpeeta - C Jon Snow knows it's wrong to covet what his brother has. He's never begrudged Robb Stark his title or his claim as the heir to Winterfell. But when Daenerys is taken in as Lord Stark's ward and betrothed to Robb, Jon's honor is tested in a way he never expected.

Desirable Business by @dracoignisworld and @dragonanddirewolf - M - In 1960's New York, creative director Jon Snow is faced with a challenge. His new secretary Daenerys is everything he is not; kind, friendly and innocent. With her around the office, he finds it hard to distinguish between reality and his fantasies. There can be consequences to desiring someone you should not have.

Written in the Scars on This Heart by @jalenmara and @notpmahlem - M - Daenerys Targaryen, supermodel and face of House Targaryen, a rising star in the world of Fashion, is commonly known as the most beautiful woman in the world. And someone wants her dead. Jon Snow, running from the ghosts of his own past, lands the job any man would kill for— protecting her. But can he protect his own heart from her?

Where the Wild Things Are by @stilesssolo - M - Daenerys Targaryen has fought tooth and nail to get to the high-ranking position she has at Tyrell Outdoor Recreational Equipment, Inc, doing everything within her power to help the planet along the way. Jon Snow has a dog with over two million instagram followers, despite the fact that he can't figure out how to work the app to save his life. When sales drop enough to threaten Tyrell's environment-saving programs, Daenerys is determined to find influencers that can turn the tides for her company. And she has her eye on Jon. Or, well— technically, Ghost.

Her Life, Her Death by magicmoon11 - C - Swayed by the powerful words of a dying queen, Stannis Baratheon takes in baby Daenerys Targaryen as his ward. In the North, Eddard Stark is ordered to raise Jon Snow to wed and dishonor the Targaryen princess, by bringing bastard blood into her line, and ending the Dragons forever. Across the continent, and across the Narrow Sea, the wheel continues to turn, and the Great Game commences. Thus begins a series of events that would change the fate of Westeros forever. Familial relationship between gruff Stannis and his ward. Eventual Jon x Dany.

The Oasis - @fierypen37 - M - With uptight and stressed CEO Daenerys Targaryen's regular masseur on leave, she has to make do with the replacement Jon Snow. Relaxation is not something she can find with his hands on her. Too bad he doesn't feel the same. Except unbeknownst to her, he definitely does. When a threat on her life pushes them together, they must both learn to deal with their growing feelings.

[maleyanderecafe]

Lucky Day! (Visual Novel)

Created by: JORDAN

Genre: Horror

Phew, really going with these yanjam games. Lucky Day! is the prequel to Dr. Morgan’s Counseling Session and I think that it is a major improvement in a lot of different aspects. What is really nice is that true ending into the events of the next game, which I really liked. If you are interested in more information on these games, you can find them at @verinefan for more information.

In total there are nine different endings you can get- one for discovering what Oliver is doing in every strange thing that happens, one for ignoring him, one for being completely oblivious, one neutral ending and one true ending that feeds into the next game. I'll be splicing the other endings between each day while writing the summary portion.

The story starts with the MC going to the pet store to buy somethings for their friend's pet. After grumbling to find the items, they bump into a strange man who seems to need help. The MC offers his their help to find where the hamsters are located before leaving and giving the items to their friend. They have a tough following week and hopes for a better following week.

Rejecting to help this man will lead to it's own ending where the MC just continues on with life.

The MC ends up going to a garage sale and finding one of their favorite plushes in the sale for a cheap price. The MC brings it home only to find a strange beeping noise coming from it.

Opening the plushie will reveal a camera inside of it and the MC removes the SD card on it to inspect it. They notice that the person was the same one they met in the pet store and that they planted the plushie in the yard sale. Oliver knocks on the door, and the MC escapes via car and runs him over.

The next day the MC is excited for a package they ordered. Opening the package reveals not what they bought but rather a USB. Within the USB are folders of different shows, games, music and other things that the MC likes. The MC notices a hidden unnamed folder.

Opening it will reveal countless photos and videos of things related to the MC. Scared, the MC tries to figure out what to do and if they should turn it to the police but instead decides to investigate it themselves. Looking through the photo properties, the MC is able to find the location of where it was taken. As it's close by, the MC decides to go to the location and finds a box to find some of the things that they had lost. Oliver ends up drugging the MC and taking them away.

The MC has a day off and decides to cancel some subscriptions to save some money. While going to cancel one of them, but realizes that something is weird and that all of the payment dates are off by a month.

Investigating further finds that all of the subscription have a Paypal connected underneath the MC's credit card. The MC is confused since if it was a hacker, why would they pay for all of them? The MC emails Oliver and Oliver response that they paid for them all because he likes them and hat they've been watching them. The MC cancels and blocks Oliver, locking the windows as well. At night, someone comes to knock on the door and runs into Oliver. The MC freaks out that he's broken in and the MC knocks him out and calls the police.

The next day the MC goes biking with a friend. You two enjoy the outdoors and then take a rest- only for the MC's friend to realize that they were being tracked. Checking on the bike, they find the tag on the bike.

Contacting the owner will have the MC and the friend call at a nearby cafe only to hear the ringtone nearby. Oliver responds stating that he didn't lose the tag, and that he was tracking the MC on purpose wanting to make sure they were okay. Your friend offers to hold onto the tag for you and the MC goes home only to find Oliver there who declares happily that he had come to pick them up. The MC gets knocked out due to the drugged food they were eating and Oliver takes them away.

The MC finishes a project for work the next day and a coworker apologizes for the bad last week and offers to treat them out for food. The MC agrees, but upon reaching the location, the coworkers apologizes for ditching at the last second and sends them money for a meal.

Looking for the coworker, the MC walks around and tries to call them only to hear the phone ring in an alleyway. The MC picks up a metal pipe for protection and finds a bloodied coworker with a Oliver standing on top of him. Oliver attempts to apologize to the MC before attacking them to prevent him from going to the police. The MC strikes back knocking Oliver out and calling the police/ambulance.

Ignoring or being mostly oblivious will lead to the MC having a nice week with one ending wishing every week were this lucky or wondering if they should have looked more into other things.

The true ending occurs if you build the MC's anxieties up but never catch Oliver. The MC has a bit of a panic attack and gets an ad about going to therapy which is what leads to the event of the next game.

Like I mentioned before, I honestly do think that the creator has improved a lot since their last game in terms of story, UI, artwork and everything. This game feels a lot more full (if that's the right word) and more colorful- it's really nice to see creator's improvements as they move onto another project or game.

Personally, I think the ways that Oliver was able to "improve" each day for the MC were all done fairly creatively. From the USB with all the things that the MC liked, to paying for their subscription services to tracking them on their bike ride, each of them have a fairly unique spin on how Oliver was able to track the MC. I think it's also nice that Oliver doesn't always win in his encounters and that the MC is generally a bit more prepared even when they do lose. I'm very used to yanderes that are able to win in all these kinds of bad endings, so it's nice to have it where it's a bit more matched. I also really like how the True ending is able to tie the prequel to the events of the next game so that it really does feel like a prequel. It was a good touch.

As a yandere, I did mention that Oliver was a bit clumsy in his methods and it continues in this as well. In each encounter, the events are generally suspicious or obviously weird in some way or another. A lot of the times, he seems to not be prepared when some things happen, like when the MC discovers that Oliver had knocked out their coworker or he comes in at a point where the MC can very easily retaliate like when he knocks on the door and the MC ends up running him over with their car. Oliver does seem to be pretty opaque when the MC does find out, stating straight out for instance when the MC asks him why he paid for his account, Oliver straight up tells the MC it's because he likes them instead of making up an excuse, or when trying to return the tag, tells them that he put it there on purpose. Even in cases where he does win like when he chloroforms the MC, the MC at least is a bit more prepared on what will happen and had to do work to track where the items were. Generally, it does seem like Oliver only purposefully interacts with the MC either because the MC finds out or he doesn't want to be sent to the police, and is happy just staying in the shadows and giving the MC different "gifts" to make their week better. Relatively harmless to the MC except when caught, which is on par with his other game.

Other than that, it seems like a pretty good prequel. If you have played Dr. Morgan’s Counseling Session but not this game, then I highly recommend you play it. It really builds on Oliver's character as a yandere and is just a fun time.

[imaginedreamwrite]

The first real nice pre-summer day warranted a trip outside of the asylum walls to the grounds for an art class beneath the whisky clouds and sunshine. While certain patients and rooms were not able to be out due to some misbehaviour, and even a mix of children, men and women were scattered within a certain radius to get some fresh air, which in itself had seemed to be an unusual kindness.

As one of the few nurses who were able to intermix within the wards, save for the children’s ward which you refused to work in, the doctors on duty for the outdoor excursion had relayed the task of helping with the art class for the afternoon. The resident head nurse had been cordial enough to task you with handing out the drawing pads held together with twine and extended certain blindness toward yourself and Steve, especially when his eyes had lingered too long upon your frame while in passing.

You didn’t want to openly embrace the flutter of your stomach and the rapid beat of your heart when he slipped a hand upon your lower back, nor had you wished to revel in the whisper of your name as it fell from his lips. It was hard enough not to be captivated by the hero the government had turned its back on, and even harder not to be completely overtaken by the beauty of his blue-green eyes when they were centred on you, as if you were the only steadfast hold he had on this earth.

“If you remain on your best behaviour,” the doctor in charge had relayed his order as if this event outside was the greatest extent and reach of his empathy, “we could spend the rest of the afternoon outside.”

Only the best-behaved and most calm, at the moment, got to enjoy nature. Only the best got a temporary reprieve from the hell beyond brick walls.

“Draw something that inspires you, something you find beautiful.” Beatrice, the head nurse extended kindness that was so hard to find within the nurses you worked with, had been a favourite among the patients and you considered yourself lucky to work with her.

There were few friends to be made here, few nurses who had wanted to do good for the patients they cared for. Many other nurses were coerced to follow doctors' orders to be unwittingly apathetic and unable to provide gentle care, many of those apathetic nurses were scared for their careers. The doctors had a tight hold on the patients and nurses alike, threatening pain for the patients and a ruined reputation for the nurses.

There was hardly any winning in this asylum, hardly any escape and many nurses had either been taken advantage of by the doctors or had unwillingly given in due to fear of what could happen with denial. Beatrice had remained steadfast in her ability to treat the patients with care and empathy, Beatrice had also remained courageous and determined to protect as many nurses in her wings as she could.

Steve was your protector, and whether he had openly admitted it or not, he had placed a claim on you. One that you were grateful for.

“I will always keep you safe. No one will touch you.”

“It’s nice out today, warm.” Annie, a mother whose child had died from the flu, had spoken to you as you passed, stopping you from walking too far. “It reminds me of her.”

You looked at the bare bones of her painting, the outline of flowers surrounding a sleeping angel in a flowing dress. There weren’t many details embedded yet in the painting and yet you could tell that Annie’s hands were gentle as she sketched her lost daughter, every motion of her drawing pencil taken with care. Like the dress she wore, one that was innocent and lovely, her daughter's hair was flowing around her head like a halo and her eyes had remained closed as if she was only sleeping.

“Your daughter was beautiful.” your voice was nary a whisper, something as soft as the petals she was drawing. “You don’t deserve to be in here, Annie. You’re not crazy.”

“No one is crazy here, nurse. We’re all forgotten. Unfortunate and unwanted.” Annie clutched your wrist and turned it over in her hand, her eyes soulful and intense, though afflicted by unshed tears. “I hear the children crying, i can hear them from my room. S’not right, ma’am.”

“I’m sorry, Annie. I wish I could do more.” Your heart broke for her, broke for the children she could hear.

“I’m meant to be a mama. I need to be a mama.” She let you go and turned back to her canvas, her eyes fixated on the pillow of flowers around her daughter's head, and then she pushed her curls out of her face.

You exhaled the breath you’d been holding and stepped past Annie, your eyes drawn toward Steve. It was innate the way you were reeled into his presence, flocking there as if he was a beacon to lead you home. You had stepped forward and the world fell away around you, the walls of asylum shifting in place to become a softer world of tall swaying grass and overhanging trees. With every step, it felt as if you were crossing a meadow to a place of serenity, a place in which neither Steve nor you were held down by barriers hidden agendas.

A place where he was the hero he’d been made out to be, a place where he was given the respect and honour he deserved.

“You’re too good for this world.” He spoke to you before you could address him and his hand found yours, turning your hand over to expose your palm. “You are meant for so much more than this.”

“Steve,” you found yourself staring at the image before you, the lines and shadows that had retained a scene like you imagined on the way over here, “is that me? You drew me?”

Though there was a lack of colour, you could picture the golden tresses brushing against the edge of a skirt and the soft glow of the sun as it peeked through tree branches. You could picture the colour of the sky barely marred by clouds, you could hear the soft chatter of birds from beyond the treelike as they revelled under the summer sun.

Steve took the risk to lift your hand to his lips, pressing a soft and sensitive smile to the inside of your palm. Your heart fluttered, just as your eyes had when his smile had shifted and a kiss to the creases on your palm and his free hand had come to settle on your waist. That singular kiss had spoken a thousand words, and the scene he sketched upon canvas, and even on his drawing pad, had relayed the message that he envisioned a similar ending as you had.

“One day,” Steve had pulled his hand from your waist and guided your fingertips to the edges of his artwork, specifically the golden grass that was brushing against your dress, “we’re going to be living this.”

“It’s beautiful,” your breath was a whisper, your heart flooded with hope and promise, “God it’s…”

“Home,” his voice was barely audible, a vow he was making to you, “this is going to be our home.”

And when you thought he was done making promises, he made you one more. “I am going to marry you, Y/N. I’m goign to be the best husband I can be for you.”

[cadet-aviator]

Discipline choices (1)

This event affected me more deeply than I realised at the time, perhaps. I think I was mostly impressed and a little proud, that the Admiral knew me and wanted to talk to me, and not to any of the other cadets. Of course I was also very pleased that my appearance had been in order and that I performed that awkward bow well. I also felt the kind of boyish satisfaction of having achieved that all by myself – without the guidance or even support of my parents. 

I’m not ashamed to say (now) that when I got home, I got on my knees again and repeated my new little drill routine. It made sense – I was trained to obey, and being on my knees felt like the epitomy of obedience.

Like before, I never felt that any of this was strange. I was a cadet and of course I would be taken in by real military men. All my drill training and all those hours ironing my shirts and polishing my shoes had been for that: to be allowed to belong.

But I had not considered joining the army, any army. I was a good student, I felt most at home in things like history and languages, on the rare occasions when I was asked what I wanted to do after school I usually said something like Law, or International Relations – in line with what I knew my parents did. 

So that was confusing. Joining that Elite Cadet Camp would mean a serious involvement in military training. Other cadets were quite keen to go. They saw it as a first step towards a military career, a place to get noticed, if you wanted to be selected for the Military Academy. That was not what I had in mind. Besides, I wasn’t even a Malay national. Joining a foreign army could compromise my citizenship. 

Immediately, I received a colourful folder in the mail – the ins and outs of that Elite Camp. Three-week courses and Six-week courses. Stuff to make boys into men, and all that. Adventure, the great outdoors, lots of discipline and rules and regulations and potential demerits, but a solid programme, by the looks of it. Truly ‘Elite’. 

But was this something I could turn down? I was a cadet, and so technically subordinate to orders. Could the Admiral force me? If I declined, would that damage my school grades?

I talked about it to Dad. 

He was kind, as always, but also suprisingly straightforward about it. ‘You don’t have to do this, son, even though I can see it’s quite a thing, to get a recommendation from His Excellency.’

He could see, of course, that I was seriously confused by this. He seemed to hold my own cadet-arrogance against me, in a subtle way, as if to say: ‘We’ve had to put up with this bizarre love of uniform of yours for months now, so I think you need to put your money where your mouth is, and go and play soldier for a few weeks, see if you like that.’

He didn’t say that, but that’s what I heard anyway. 

What he really said was: ‘I can’t tell if you’re really meant for a military career, but everything you’ve done so far seems to indicate that there are lots of aspects of the military that agree with you. I guess you’ll have to see for yourself if there is a next step for you.’

 ‘You have been invited to go to Army Cadet HQ and get a briefing on what this camp is all about. Perhaps you should just go and hear what they have to say?’

Which was reasonable. And I did as he suggested.

(All images AI generated)

[for-yoongi0309]

[NOTICE] 2024 FESTA Ground Event Information

Hello. This is BIGHIT MUSIC. We will be holding an outdoor event for ARMY in Seoul, South Korea in celebration of 2024 FESTA

[Event Overview]

Date: 11 AM - 9 PM, Thursday, June 13, 2024 (KST) Location: The area encompassing the Futsal Field and Sports Park within Seoul Sports Complex (near Woongbi Statue) in Songpa-gu, Seoul

[Details]

ARMY ZONE - A designated souvenir will be given away to those who verify their ARMY MEMBERSHIP (GL, JP, US). - You can only receive one set, and stock may run out early.

PLAY ZONE

- ARMY on June 13th Express how you feel about the 2024 FESTA through a drawing and put it up for exhibition. Share your experiences with other ARMY and discuss how you’re enjoying the FESTA. - BTS Capsule Grab! Check the Message of the Day by drawing lyrics of BTS songs from the capsule vending machine. (Try to find hidden special gifts!) - Upcycling Parts Craft Make your own 2024 FESTA logo using upcycled plastic parts, and take a keepsake with you to remember the day. Other small photo zones and sponsor booths of different types will be installed throughout the event area. Enjoy!

* Since Seoul Sports Complex will be hosting various events aside from the 2024 FESTA event on June 13, we ask you to be mindful of your safety and maintain an orderly environment. To ensure everyone's safety and smooth operation of the events, reservations may be required for certain interactive programs if the area becomes overcrowded

📌 Important Information on Participating in the Event * SAFETY - Certain aisles will be closed off from usage or seating as they will be used as evacuation routes in the event of an emergency. Please follow the instructions of the on-site staff. - Safety and operation staff will be stationed throughout the event area. In case of emergency, please notify the staff member closest to you and ask for assistance. - Do not wait in line overnight. Any lines may be asked to disperse for safety reasons. * WEATHER & HEALTH - Please stay hydrated as the weather may be hot. If you feel unwell during the event, please notify the staff member closest to you and ask for assistance. - We recommend that you bring hats, sunglasses, umbrellas, and sunscreen to protect yourself from the potentially strong sun on the event day.

* TRASH DISPOSAL - Please reduce and separate waste to protect the environment. Please dispose of your waste in the waste bins on site. * MISCELLANEOUS - Videos and photos will be taken throughout the event area. These videos and photos may include visitors’ faces, and may be used as content for BIGHIT MUSIC. - Any illegal sale of goods around the venue on the day of the event is prohibited. If discovered, you may be held legally liable. - Any unauthorized individual events (handing out goods, performances, etc.) around the venue on the day of the event are prohibited in order to maintain safety and an orderly environment. - There will be no separate booths or spaces where you can store your belongings. Please be mindful of your valuables. - Please be mindful of your surroundings and avoid damaging the grass, trees, statues, and other facilities throughout Seoul Sports Complex

[ballads-and-dirges]

𝓦𝓪𝓻𝓻𝓲𝓸𝓻 𝓸𝓯 𝓛𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽 𝓟𝓻𝓸𝓯𝓲𝓵𝓮

𝒟𝑒𝓂𝑜𝑔𝓇𝒶𝓅𝒽𝒾𝒸𝓈

Name: Kadenza Amadea-Leonis | Kadenza Valdisdottir

Nickname: Kad, Chirrup, Crisanta

Age: 25-27 (ARR) | 27-28 (HW) | 28-29 (SB) | 29-30 (ShB) | 31-33 (EW)

Sex/Gender: Female

Ethnicity: Midlander Hyur

Occupation: Second Lieutenant of the Twin Adder

Class: Archer

Job: Bard

𝒫𝒽𝓎𝓈𝒾𝒸𝒶𝓁 𝒜𝓅𝓅𝑒𝒶𝓇𝒶𝓃𝒸𝑒

Eye color: Brown (ARR-SB) | Pale Blue and Brown (ShB)

Skin color: Espresso with Cool undertones

Hair color: Black (ARR-SB) | Grey (ShB)

Height: 5 Fulms, 1 Ilm

Weight: 150 ponze

Body type: Subtle hourglass shape with a semi athletic build

Fitness level: Kadenza’s fitness level is high since she is constantly adventuring and fighting but a lot of her arm strength comes from her Botany hobby

Tattoos: NA

Scars/Birthmarks: She has a scar running from her left shoulder nearly down to her right hip from where Zenos struck her down on their first dual; due to how fast she was treated the skin healed without leaving too much of a dark mark

Other distinguishing features: Her pale blue left eye after Ardbert’s soul merged with her own. She also wears a yellow chrysanthemum pin in her hair and wears saffron colored eye shadow in the corners of her eyes.

Disabilities: NA

Cleanliness/Grooming: For someone who’s constantly traveling or sleeping outdoors, she’s constantly doing her best to stay clean. Due to her being raised in a small village in the Twelveswood, she’s used to cleaning up in fresh bodies of lakes, rivers, ponds, etc. so she’ll take her time to freshen up whenever given the moment to.

Coordination (or lack thereof): Her coordination is immaculate due to her being a bard. Her father drilled it into her that a good bard must be coordinated and fluid.

𝐻𝒾𝓈𝓉𝑜𝓇𝓎

Birth date: Third Sun of the Sixth Astral Moon in 1552

Guardian: Menphina, the Lover

Place of birth: Sharlayan

Key family members: 

Kara Valdisdottir (biological sister)

Lucienne and Yves Amadea-Leonis (adoptive parents)

Ty’rion Amadea-Leonis (adoptive brother)

Notable events/milestones: 

Following in her father’s footsteps, Kadenza finally joined the Archer’s Guild and spent years working her way to becoming a renowned Bard within the guild. The day she became a Bard her family threw a celebration for her to honor her achievement.

As she did her due diligence as a Scion, she also made sure to fulfill her duties as a member within the Twin Adders. Her diligence paid off as she has been honored with merits to become the Second Lieutenant and create her own squadron.

Criminal record: She has a fairly clean slate, she’s kind of too honest to a fault.

Affiliations: 

The Gridanian Branch of the Adventurer’s Guild

Scions of the Seventh Dawn

Second Lieutenant of the Order of the Twin Adder

The Archer’s Guild

The Fisher’s Guild

The Culinary Guild

Haus de Leonis

Lore: Kadenza had been born in Sharlayan along with her elder sister Kara but they were separated during the Garlean Invasion in 1557. She was only 5 summers old when her parents had been slain by Garlean troops. Kara, her elder sister, did what she could to lead Kadenza to safety but ended up being captured and shackled to other children and teens who were not fortunate enough to escape. Kara’s last word echoing in her head to run and to stay with the others. 

For months Kadenza traveled with a group of survivors that were making their way to Ishgard but with the dangers of dragons and wyvern, many of them were killed trying to defend themselves. After a while she found herself alone following a single moogle to Gods know where. The little sprite led her to safety, using a magick to make her invisible as they traversed the desolate lands of The Churning Mist. It wasn’t too long that she was led to their little village of Moghome, where she was taken care of for a few months until an uninvited person stumbled into their cave; a young Elezen man, with a bow on his back and a small harp placed on his hip, Yves Amadea-Leonis. For weeks the man waited outside the cave trying to convince Kadenza that he meant no harm and only wanted to help. It was the moogle who rescued her that convinced her to join the man, for she would have a better life among those similar to her. From there she followed the man to Gridania where he and his wife, Lucienne, raised her alongside a Vieran boy, Ty’rion, as their own.

Other notes: Being acknowledged as Hydaelyn’s Chosen has caused much dissonance within herself, as having the title as Warrior of Light has been exhausting coupled with her ties to being a Scion and Twin Adder Lieutenant. She constantly wrestles with her identity and has a severe case of imposter syndrome. This is an identity she constantly wrestles with that has pushed her further into being more aloof and reclusive in regards to letting people near her. She’s only recently been allowing herself to open up again after the events of Shadowbringers where she was nearly overwhelmed by corrupted light. Having Ardbert by her side has made her open her heart to relying on others and being more vulnerable with her allies.

𝒫𝓈𝓎𝒸𝒽𝑜𝓁𝑜𝑔𝒾𝒸𝒶𝓁 𝒯𝓇𝒶𝒾𝓉𝓈

Personality type: INFJ-T (Introverted, Intuitive, Feeling, Judging - Turbulent Advocate)

Focuses on the difficult parts of a problem.

Fueled by their worries and concerns, and these can be used to make significant progress.

Often affected by and caught up in the drama of life

Often affected by stress and regret because their regrets weigh on them more, but is more likely to learn from mistakes

Personality traits: Headstrong, Compassionate, Empathetic, Decisive, Sensitive, Aloof, Ambitious, Altruistic, a tad Sarcastic when annoyed

Temperament: INFJ The Empath | The Counselor

Introvert/Extrovert: Introvert

Mannerisms: Since her adoptive family is Elezen, Kadenza is a bit more formal when it comes to speaking and her posture reflects that as well. Though since she lived in a smaller village, when she visits city-states like Gridania or Ishgard the Elezen there believe her manners are not as refined. However to other races are confused when meeting this small Hyuran woman who seems more Elezen than Hyur.

Educational background: Kadenza is more street smart than book smart due to her upbringing. She is well versed in Elezen history and music. All that she has learned is knowledge passed down from the village elders and her Bard father (and his trusty band of Bard friends). Her mother has taught her botany and how to care for smaller creatures and gave her a white Ferret named Vani for her 15th nameday.

Intelligence: She is a fairly decent problem solver but is terrible when it comes to arithmetic. One pro is that she’s open to learning anything, a con is that she has to try extra hard when learning if it’s not something she has engaged with before.

Self-esteem: Kadenza’s self esteem was decent, she was always proud of her accomplishments and reflected on her failures. However there was a major shift in her self reflection and esteem when she was realized as the Warrior of Light. Due to this she suffers from a case of imposter syndrome more often than not. She has been doing her best to cope and get back to herself before that acknowledgment. 

Hobbies: She enjoys logging different plants she’s found on her adventures across Eorzea, it’s one of the things that brings her comfort and reminds her of home. She’s often creating different flower arrangements and decorating her home with the final products. Although not the best at it, she joined the Fisher’s Guild so she could learn how to fish and does it recreationally with her brother Ty’rion when they’re catching up.

Skills/talents: Singing and dancing are among some of Kadenza’s best talents. She had been taught so many folk songs from village elders and her father that these talents ended up becoming second nature to her. She loves playing her crudely crafted ocarina and harp. Due to how often she sang and danced around the village with her little harp in hand she had been given the nickname “Chirrup”, referring to how she fluttered about the village like a little canary.

Loves: Very cliche but she loves chocobos and moogles. Her love for moogles from childhood when she was saved by a moogle that led her to Moghome. And her love for chocobos? She loves the way they “kweh” and how fluffy they are. From scattered pieces of her childhood in Sharlayan, she remembers her family herding and training them so the fondness has just been a part of her life.

Morals/Virtues: Her morals are steeped in never compromising herself or allies to achieve her goals. She never wants anyone to doubt her intentions and will be honest when she feels at odds with certain decisions.Her family has ingrained to her that her bonds and connections to everyone is what strengthens her and she must not forget all those who work alongside her. These morals are what keep her from completely closing off others.

Phobias/Fears: 

Fear: The biggest fear Kadenza faces is loss due to not being strong enough to save others. Although she knows she can’t protect everyone, it scares her when she can’t save as many as possible… even at the expense of her own livelihood.

Phobias: She thinks bog yarzon are the worst creatures she’s ever encountered and visibly shiver whenever encountering one. On her first venture when she ran into one she nearly dropped her bow. She also has thalassophobia and has to meditate before diving into deep bodies of water. She was stressed the hell out when she had to swim the Ruby Sea.

Angered by: Hypocrisy and two-faced people are the things that sets her off completely.

Pet peeves: Obnoxiously loud sounds, when people blow her off or speak rudely but then act nice when they realize who she is, when she’s expected to do everything 

Obsessed with: Obsessed with chrysanthemums ever since she was a child and learned botany from her mother, Lucienne. They would often make flower crowns and bouquets together. Every year she waits for late Summer and Autumn to come around so she can go visit the chrysanthemum field near her village

Routines: She doesn’t really have a routine besides harvesting in the early hours of the day and late evenings when she is not on official duty. She goes about her days leisurely when she’s not adventuring.

Bad habits: 

She has a hard time saying no to others and can get into tight situations because of it. 

Holding in her emotions, even when they’re justified, until she explodes.

Shouldering burdens for others until the point of emotions;/mental fatigue.

Desires: Her biggest desire is to overcome her imposter syndrome and to fulfill her role as Hydaelyn’s Chosen on her own terms. She detests being seen as a weapon and wants to be acknowledged as a capable person who worked their way up to being as strong as she is and not because it was a fate destined by a God.

Flaws: 

Blaming herself for others being harmed due to their association with her

Letting her priorities overwhelm her

Shutting herself off from others when under pressure

Quirks: Kadenza likes to talk to the elemental sprites and refuses to kill/hunt them unless necessary. Talking to her furry companions like they're actual people is another trait she has and has been caught on many occasions having “conversations” with her chocobo, Lavitz. She’s lived in the Twelveswood with so much nature surrounding her, she has always been more in tuned with creatures and sprites. She also wrestles with Torgal when no one’s around to stimulate the pup and build their bond.

Favorite sayings: “Time is the longest distance between two places.”

Secrets: When faced with her own mortality, she begrudged Hydaelyn for pushing her so far but was instantly regretful. That night she stayed locked in her room praying to the Goddess and sobbing at her moment of weakness.

Regrets: She regrets that she never confessed her love for Haurchefant before he sacrificed himself for her. Her heart clenches every time she remembers holding his bloody hand as he passed away in Aymeric's arms.

Accomplishments: Kadenza has an extensive list of accomplishments as Warrior of Light, but a personal accomplishment she acknowledges is carrying on her father’s legacy as a Bard. She always comes home to her mother and father recounting the tales of her journey through song. Her village looks to her as their precious jewel.

Memories: She remembers her sister, Kara. Never once forgetting her face or cries when she was captured. It’s been so many years, she can’t even remember her bio parents that well but she remembers Kara as clear as day. It’s a haunting memory and she longed to be reunited with her. 

Other notes: Kadenza and Kara were reunited during the Dragonsong War, where she learned that Kara had been watching over her since the moment she came to Dravania. Kadenza had learned that Kara had been shipped away to Kugane and was nearly sold as a child bride but was liberated by an Au’ran tribe who took her in as her own. Kara had later been betrothed to the son of a renowned Au’ran Warrior within the tribe. She became the matriarch of the family and constantly returned to Dravania to look for traces of Kadenza’s survival. Her appearance came during the invasion of the Holy See where she fought side by side with Kadenza to bring down Nidhogg and his fleet of wyrms.

𝒞𝑜𝓂𝓂𝓊𝓃𝒾𝒸𝒶𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃

Languages known: Although her first language was the Common Language, it was quickly forgotten when she was taken in by her adoptive Elezen family. Elezen became her most fluently spoken language to the point that whenever she speaks the Common Language she has a heavy accent. She is constantly learning Amalj’aan and Sylphic and with the reunion with her sister she’s learning bits and pieces of Au’ran language. She prefers Elezen because it comes more naturally to her and constantly gets confused by certain Hyuran terminology to the point that Thancred pokes fun at her in mock disbelief. She usually has to look to the twins or Urianger to explain (in Elezen) certain sayings in the Common Language.

Preferred communication methods: Speaking and through Epics

Accent: To other races she has the Elezen accent but within the Elezen hierarchy, she sounds a bit unrefined since she grew up in a village. Many scattered Elezen villages share a certain way of speech distinct from City-State Elezen so they are able to identify she’s from a village.

Style and pacing of speech: Her style of speech sounds elegant and concise. She speaks a bit with a drawl but most people think it's charming.

Pitch/tone: She has a warm tone for being so small. It’s neither high nor low.

Laughter: Her laughter is actually deeper than her voice. It’s huskier and radiates warmth like a single ember in a fireplace. Many people say it feels comforting hearing her laugh and usually makes others smile.

Smile: Her smile radiates from her eyes normally but it’s wide and cheerful when she’s singing and dancing. That’s where her smile is the most genuine.

Use of gestures: She usually gestures more when she’s trying to figure out the proper way to say a phrase in the Common Language. Usually scratching her head or rubbing a hand on her cheek when she’s thinking how to express her words.

Facial expressions: Much of her emotions are displayed and noticed through her eyes first. She’s fairly expressive when her emotions are high.

Verbal expressions: She’s known for audible gasps when shocked or sighs when deep in thought.

𝒮𝓉𝓇𝑒𝓃𝑔𝓉𝒽𝓈, 𝒲𝑒𝒶𝓀𝓃𝑒𝓈𝓈𝑒𝓈, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒜𝒷𝒾𝓁𝒾𝓉𝒾𝑒𝓈

Physical strengths: She has excellent stability, focus, and hand eye coordination. Balancing and having a sturdy core is another strength of hers. In order to wield a bow, she was put through tough trials by her father.

Physical weaknesses: She developed a mild case of insomnia when her soul was 8 times rejoined. Many of her dreams consist of lives from the other souls merged with her but her most vivid ones come from Ardbert.

Intellectual strengths: She is wildly creative and enjoys learning about new instruments from other cultures. 

Intellectual weaknesses: Arithmetic is a struggle for her and she leaves it to Tataru to handle the numbers side of things.

Interpersonal strengths: Kadenza shows empathy even to those who, in the eyes of others, don't deserve it. She often thinks how she’s not so different from her adversaries who also believe their causes are noble.

Interpersonal weaknesses: She easily internalizes all of her negative emotions and takes on the emotions of others too. She often overwhelms herself and has to step away to recenter.

Physical abilities: She’s a master bowman and never misses a target due to how well her focus and concentration are.

Magical abilities: Her magical abilities work in tandem with healers and tanks. With either the strum of her harp or the whistle of her ocarina she can remove ailments during battle and create strengthening buffs for herself and allies. 

Physical illnesses/conditions: NA

Mental illnesses/conditions: 

She has imposter syndrome and depression due to being Hydaelyn’s Champion, and having to be the bearer of all burdens of the realm and its citizens.

Her PTSD comes from the death of Haurchefant taking a strike meant for her, and only worsens the more she is sent to the front lines of war.

𝑅𝑒𝓁𝒶𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃𝓈𝒽𝒾𝓅𝓈

Partner(s)/Significant other(s): Aymeric de Borel

Lover(s): Haurchefant (relationship unconfirmed; deceased)

Parents/Guardians: 

Lucienne Amadea-Leonis (adoptive mother)

Yves Amadea-Leonis (adoptive father)

Children: NA

Grandparents: She considers the elders of her village to be her grandparents and only refers to them in endearing terms due to how close their small village is.

Grandchildren: NA

Family:

Kara Valdisdottir (biological sister)

Ty'rion Amadea-Leonis (adoptive brother)

 Lucienne and Yves Amadea-Leonis (adoptive parents)

Amitra (dragon)  - Amitra is not exactly her family but a dragon bond she formed during the Dragonsong War when the Ishgardians made peace with the Dragons. Midgarsommar blessed the bond and charged Amitra with being Kadenza’s guardian.

Pets: 

Vani (white ferret)

Lavitz (chocobo companion)

Torgal (wolf)

Best friends: Alphinaud and Alisaie, Tataru, Svea and Aatos, Kys'eel Eralis, Contessa Scientia

Friends: G’raha Tia, Estinien, Ysayle (deceased), Atoirel and Emmanellain, Moenbryda (deceased), Krile, Riol, Zero, Erenvile

Rivals: Silvairee of the Archer’s Guild

Enemies: Zenos yae Galvus and Lahabrea

Colleagues: Members of the Scions, Soldiers of the Twin Adder, Members of Haus de Leonis

Mentors/Teachers: Jehantel Fointeaume & Midgarsommar

Idols/Role models: She looks up to her father Yves. To her, he is the greatest man she’s ever known.

Followers: Alphinaud, Alisaie, G’raha Tia, and her Squadron

Public perception of them: She is hailed as the Realm’s Hero, Hydaelyn’s Chosen, and Feller of Gods

𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓇𝒶𝒸𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝒢𝓇𝑜𝓌𝓉𝒽

Character archetype: The Seeker "The Seeker is a force to be reckoned with. This archetype embodies the inner rugged individual who is willing to brave loneliness and isolation in pursuit of new paths"

Character arc: Merging souls with Ardbert has helped her in realizing that she is not alone and that through it all there is always someone standing beside her. Although she is still plagued by mental and emotional anguishes, she’s learning to open her heart more. Not to mention how moved she was at Alisaie’s outburst, she knew then that there were people who cared about her regardless of the fact that she is Hydaelyn’s Champion. Alphinaud and Alisaie choosing to walk beside her along with Ardbert had been what she needed for so long, as she only felt that most interest in her was as nothing but a weapon sharpened for war.

Core values: Remaining as true to herself as possible and shaping her own future the way she sees fit.

Internal conflicts: Allowing herself to be more vulnerable and asking for help when she falters

External conflicts: She struggles with everyone’s over reliance on her and still trying to find balance while not breaking under pressure.

Goals: She’s unsure of her goal right now as she’s constantly pulled in many directions, but she knows that she wants to bring harmony and peace to the realm.

Motivations: Protecting the ones she loves is her motivation and knowing that she is the only one who can do it.

[asordinaryppl]

A3! Seasonal Event - Anniversary Game: Episode 9

Izumi: (It’s almost time for the performance to begin, but Azami-kun and Kumon-kun…)

[Door clicks open]

Kumon: Sorry we’re late!

Azami: We made it back in the nick of time!

Hisoka: Welcome back, you two.

Izumi: We’ve still got time, it’s okay! Thank you for handing out flyers.

Izumi: (After the rehearsal ended, the two of them ran out in their costumes in order to hand out flyers and attract customers.)

Tsuzuru: Sorry, it feels like we left everything to you two.

Kumon: Not at all!

Azami: We’re the ones who said we wanted to do this. If anything, we left all other preparations up to you guys.

Azuma: Fufu, don’t worry about it. More importantly, it looks like you have no leftover flyers.

Kumon: Yeah! I guess the costumes really caught people’s attention, and the passersby’s reactions were really good!

Chikage: Here, have some water.

Kumon: Thanks!

Azami: Thanks, I’m parched.

Izumi: (They act like it’s nothing, but I’m sure handing out flyers till they had none left was difficult.)

Chikage: I made another announcement on our site and social media and uploaded pictures of the outdoor stage while at it.

Kumon: Nice going, Chikage-san!

Azami: I think lots of people would want to come see this after looking at these posts.

Azami: Wait, we don’t have the time to be relaxing like this. I gotta fix our makeup.

-

Izumi: Are you ready?

Azami: Yeah. All set.

Izumi: On to the stage you go, then! Break a leg, everyone!

Hisoka: Thanks. We’re off.

-

Izumi: (Woah, there's even more people than I imagined there would be here!)

Izumi: (Some people are holding the flyers Azami-kun and Kumon-kun gave out… Ah, and there’s the person Hisoka-san played chess with.) 

Izumi: (Everyone’s individual efforts have led to this moment.) 

- 

Izumi: (Chess Garden... Here, it’s a country led by the brothers Red King and Blue King, who inherited it from their father, the First King.) 

Izumi: (But the two kings’ personalities are complete opposites, so they fight every day...) 

Red King (Azami): “You whine about every little thing, you’re so damn annoying!” 

Blue King (Hisoka): “I should be the one saying that. Just looking at you irritates me.” 

Red Bishop (Azuma): “Your Majesties, I bring grave news!” 

Blue King: “What’s all this ruckus about?” 

Blue Bishop (Tsuzuru): “The citizens... they feel suffocated in this country because of the rift between its leaders...” 

Blue Bishop: “A petition has been delivered to the castle, demanding some sort of action to be taken.” 

The Kings: “W-What did you say!?” 

Red King: “To think we’ve upset our precious citizens so...” 

Blue King: “We’ve made our beloved people feel like this...” 

Red Bishop: “Your personalities might be full of flaws, but both of you truly care about your citizens.” 

Blue Bishop: “That’s true...” 

Blue King: “The fact remains that our faulty personalities are what causes everyone’s anxiety...” 

Red King: “Then, we should decide who is most fit to be King...” 

Red King: “... Through means of battle!” 

Blue King: “That’s fine by me. The winner will be declared True King and rule this country.” 

Blue King: “The loser King and his subordinates will be completely obedient to the new King.” 

Red King: “Hah, that’s exactly what I want.” 

Red King: “The battle will take place three days from now. Us, the Kings, along with our Bishops and Knights, will do battle in front of our citizens...” 

Red King: “The first to win two battles takes the crown!” 

Red Knight (Chikage): “We have the physical advantage; we will not lose to them.” 

Blue Knight (Kumon): “Hmph. There’s no way they can match our brain with their brawn.” 

Izumi: (And on the night of the day the battle was decided...) 

Red King: “I will definitely be the victor.” 

Blue King: “No. I will.” 

Red King: “My subordinates, just like me, are strong people confident in their physical prowess. Your feeble subordinates have nothing on them.” 

Blue King: “You can say whatever you want. My subordinates are as intelligent as I am. We have no intention of losing.” 

Red King: “Well, this might not be entirely possible but... How about we settle things with a chess match, should the battles between our subordinates have no victor?” 

Blue King: “Fine by me. On the off chance that happens, I’ll checkmate you in the blink of an eye.” 

Izumi: (The two kings make a promise, and 3 days later, on the day of the battle...) 

Blue Bishop: “First, the Knights... will compete in a chess set maintenance competition, to see who can take care of the sets more quickly and efficiently!” 

Red Bishop: “So, a battle that will test both alertness and skill.” 

Red Knight: “Of course, I have mastered not only the sword, but also maintenance. If you’re going to surrender, you should do so now.” 

Blue Knight: “In order to efficiently clean up a chess set, you need knowledge of both the materials and shapes of the pieces. This battle is an easy victory for me.” 

Red Bishop: “Both seem quite confident. Are you ready?” 

Red Bishop: “You may... Begin!” 

Red Knight: “Haaaaah!” 

Blue Knight: “*putting things in place quickly*...!” 

Red King: “As expected of the Red Knight. What speed! What dexterity!” 

Blue King: “The Blue Knight is conscious of what’s more efficient. His dexterity is also brilliant.”

Izumi: (The Kings and the citizens are both left impressed, and even though the battle is close, the Red Knight loses in the end.) 

Red Knight: “Ugh...!” 

Red King: “Impossible! How could this be! The calculations must be wrong!” 

Blue King: “Haha, this is the logical result.” 

Izumi: (The next competition is a quiz battle between the Bishops, regarding their knowledge of Chess Garden and chess as a whole.) 

Red Bishop: “... Correct. So, you can precisely remember the moves of the pieces from famous past games... As one would expect of you.” 

Blue Bishop: “I suppose so... Well, here is the next question.” 

Blue Bishop: “The specialty dish of this country’s previous head chef was...” 

Red Bishop: “A soft stew with plenty of warm, sweet potatoes!”

Blue Bishop: “... But what is the special ingredient the chef put in that stew?” 

Red Bishop: “Wha...” 

Red Knight: “Wh-what a difficult question. If anything, this is simply you being a food junkie!” 

Blue Knight: “If the Red Bishop can’t answer this, we will be the first to two victories...!” 

Blue Bishop: “So, what will it be? Can you answer?” 

Red Bishop: “...” 

Red Bishop: “... Damn it all! ... Don’t move!” 

Blue Bishop: “!?” 

Izumi: (The Red Bishop, on the verge of losing, suddenly takes out a knife and takes the Blue Bishop hostage.) 

The Kings: “...!?” 

Red Knight: “You...!” 

Blue Knight: “Hey, calm down!” 

Red Bishop: “I don’t want to see the Red King lose because of me.” 

Red Bishop: “That’s why, I will bring victory upon you, even if it means killing him!” 

Blue Bishop: “H-Hiiie..!?” 

Red King: “Wait, Bishop! You are taking things too far!”

Blue King: “Calm yourself! Why would you...” 

Red Bishop: “Don’t get any closer, either of you!” 

Red King: “Either of you!?” 

Blue King: “Are you forgetting your place!?” 

Red Bishop: “If you get any closer, I will kill him and then myself!” 

Blue Bishop: “U... Uuuu.. I’m done for...” 

Red King: “I would have never expected... The usually gentle Red Bishop to resort to such violent measures...” 

Blue King: “I would have never expected... To see the usually calm Blue Bishop so scared and anxious.” 

Red Knight: “My King, what are your orders!?” 

Blue Knight: “My King, I am at your disposal!” 

The Kings: “...” 

previous episode | masterpost | next episode

[practically-an-x-man]

trying to plot the story so thought I'd ask my first question now XD since you know more about this kind of forensic stuff, if you were Ricki what would your next steps be? :)

Oooh, good question!

(fair warning, this got LONG)

(and again take all this with a grain of salt since I'm not a professional forensic scientist, it was just my major before I dropped out of college. If you plan on going deep into the science/technical side of things, I'd definitely suggest asking people who are active in the industry)

So I think there are two sides of this: how the case will proceed, and how Ricki will proceed. Those are two different things, since Ricki absolutely defied crime scene protocol in that first chapter and the forensic scientists will have a different protocol. But let's get into this!

The case: At this point, further law enforcement will be called to secure the scene. Extensive photos of the scene will be take both before any changes are made and after the evidence is identified and labeled, and these photos will include close-ups, mid-range shots, and shots that encompass the whole scene from various angles. They also will investigate well around the scene in order to identify any further evidence or directional clues. Because the scene is outdoors, they don't necessarily have a set size to make the active scene (it's a little simpler with indoor scenes, since they'll close off the room, floor, or whole building), so it'll depend on the size of the event and where potential evidence may be found. Sketches may also be drawn of the scene, as a second measure to identify interacts between pieces of evidence.

Anyway. Since Ricki and her partner were first on the scene, they should be the first to call it in as a crime scene, and should stay to keep watch over the crime scene until other enforcements arrive and the scene is closed. Technically, they should have avoided tampering with the scene entirely upon discovering it, since they aren't forensic scientists (the one exception would be if they were able to save the victim's life - medicine can supercede preserving the crime scene if it's time-sensitive), but since they haven't...

Ricki and her partner will both be fingerprinted (they should already have prints on file, but a new set will probably also be taken in case of temporary changes such as cuts or calluses), and will likely have DNA samples taken (so their DNA can be ruled out when other evidence from the scene is sampled).

Assuming it's known that Ricki entered the crime scene herself and came in close contact with the victim, she will absolutely have her DNA and prints taken, and her clothing may be confiscated as evidence for analysis (especially if there's visible blood, toxin, or other evidence staining her clothing). She will be questioned about her role in the scene, and will likely be reprimanded for diving right into the scene the way she did. She may also be given a physical exam - those are typically given to victims, witnesses, and potential suspects present at the scene when the crime occurred, but since Ricki entered the scene before it was closed and the age of the scene could not be fully determined when she did, they may choose to give her an exam as well.

As for the scene itself, all points of potential evidence will be identified and assigned a specific number. Photographs will be taken, using numbered plastic "tents" to label them as well as small rulers placed near (but not touching) the evidence to get an approximation of size. Small pieces of evidence, such as hairs or clothing fibers, will be given a number and a written description, and will be placed into a bindle. Liquid evidence will be swabbed and placed in a sealed container, which will also be labeled. Wet or bloodstained clothing will be wrapped in paper, taking care not to touch or wipe off the evidence any more than is necessary - liquids that are still wet are easier to identify than dried liquids, especially when it comes to blood or other biological substances. Evidence that cannot be transported, such as footprints or those claw marks at the scene, will be extensively photographed and logged, and will be left as intact as possible for the forensic scientists to examine more thoroughly at the scene. If possible, a small portion of the sample may be removed for lab testing (i.e. a bloodstained patch of carpet from a carpeted floor), but this depends on the substance.

Everyone who enters and leaves the scene will have to clock in with an assigned manager (someone whose only job is to record everyone who enters and leaves, and when). There is no food, drink, or smoking allowed on the crime scene for risk of cross-contamination, and all who are in the crime scene are to avoid coughing, sneezing, or even talking more than is necessary to avoid biological contamination. All evidence will also have custody forms, detailing who had the evidence at what time - you want as few different people handling the evidence as possible, to reduce the risk of loss or cross-contamination. Evidence will be given to lab technicians as needed for analysis, and the scene will remain sealed until all analysis is complete (it's important that more samples can be collected as needed without the risk of cross-contamination).

The body will be strictly photographed, verbally described, and labelled before it is removed from the scene, but once it is removed it will be sent to a coroner or medical examiner. Those two are NOT the same: medical examiners have a medical degree and extensive training and are the ones you WANT to have examining the body, while coroners are elected positions that require minimal to no training.

In a city like Gotham, I'd expect MEs rather than coroners. They will determine the identity of the victim, assess any damage done to the body and label all injuries, and assess the age of the body based on rigor mortis, livor mortis, forensic entomology (for example, blowflies can colonize a corpse in as little as 5-10 minutes when undisturbed!), and other means. They will almost certainly bring in a toxicologist to examine the poison on the knives. The victim's clothing, as well as the knives themselves, will be taken as evidence for analysis as well.

Particularly if it's a large crime scene or will draw a lot of attention (this would qualify), a defined area for journalists will be assigned OUTSIDE the active scene. The information released about the case will be extremely limited at first, but news personnel are still given their own area for whatever information they are allowed to gather.

It's a PROCESS, and you can see how long this got even when I'm trying to simplify it. And of course, this is the best-case scenario as well - even with these guidelines, evidence may be missed or cross-contaminated, detectives may bring food or drink into the scene, and other fallacies may happen. Hell- one already did, with Ricki jumping into the scene, and that's bound to have some repercussions both for her and for the analysis of the scene. But that brings me to the second part:

For Ricki: She has her own piece of evidence, doesn't she? Now, technically speaking she SHOULD NOT have done that, for a variety of reasons. For one, that wasn't standard collection or identification procedure, and it could make that substance harder to identify (due to cross-contamination, age, being stored improperly, etc.). And on top of that, depending on how observant the other technicians on the scene are, they might notice that the blade was tampered with after the crime was committed, which is a wrench thrown in the plans. Either Ricki needs to fess up and face the consequences of tampering with the scene, or she could be sending the other scientists on a red herring. And it's not just the knife - her footprints, her fingerprints, lost hairs, fibers from her clothing that got caught on the scene, and any accidental nudges to other pieces of evidence could also throw off the analysis.

She needs to get this chemical identified. Forensics labs are not standardized, which is a problem with the system as a whole but benefits Ricki individually here. The Gotham City Police Department likely uses a city-wise, state-wide, or federally-sponsored forensics lab, but Ricki could take her sample to a private lab and have it analyzed... well, not off the record, but at least without the police department getting involved. There may still be contact between labs, and having analysis done on the same chemical from the crime scene could still stir up some trouble for her, but she reduces that risk by going to an independent lab.

I'm honestly not sure where she should go from there. It depends on what she wants to get out of this - is she trying to solve the case, or just get a lead on who did it so she can Nightwing up and take them down? There's only so much information she can get from having that chemical analyzed, even if the analysis turns out to be successful. I'd say from here, her best bet is to try and lay low, follow the forensic examiner's lead, and get her story cleared - being reprimanded or written up is still better than having her cross-contamination misinterpreted and being seen as a potential suspect. It helps that her partner saw her interact with the scene, having that witness strengthens her alibi even if the situation is a little messy overall.

And of course... this is Gotham. It's a fictional city, and a city that's known for having superpowered crime on the regular. They may very well have differing procedures and responses to the ones we have here in the real world. Forensics as a science is constantly undergoing revisions and is subject to human error in a vast multitude of ways - it might benefit your worldbuilding to think about how analysis may differ in a science-forward, superpower-adapted world like this.

[sunsetstarrogue]

Right Where You Left Me

Chapter Three

Other Chapters - (1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18)

Characters - Rhaenys Targaryen (daughter of Rhaegar) x Robert Baratheon (political)

Summary - Rhaegar's life is spared by the valiant intervention of Arthur Dayne, moments before Robert deals the fatal blow. With their lives preserved, Rhaegar and the remaining Targaryens seek refuge on Dragonstone, eventually making their escape to Essos. Regrettably, Rhaegar is forced to leave his eldest daughter behind.

Left in the midst of her adversaries, Rhaenys grows up surrounded by those who view her as an enemy. As time passes, she becomes entangled in the treacherous game of thrones, particularly in the aftermath of Cersei and Jaime Lannister's public execution for their incestuous relationship.

Caught in a web of schemes and deceit, Rhaenys finds herself compelled to employ similar tactics in order to ensure her own survival.

Word Count - 8.1k

With two moons passing since Robert Baratheon claimed her maidenhood, Rhaenys found herself on the precipice of a destined marriage to the very man who had taken her virtue. The way events had unfolded filled her with a surprising contentment. In the aftermath of that fateful night, she had braced herself for the king's rejection, or worse, a swift exile to Winterfell. However, the tapestry of fate had been woven with a different thread. Rather than casting her aside, Robert sought her company, seeking her out in a manner that both perplexed and intrigued her.

To her astonishment, the king extended his favor even beyond the confines of his chambers. He granted her permission to accompany him on a hunting expedition, disregarding the fact that her name day had long since passed. It was an unexpected gesture, an invitation into his world of masculine pursuits. In an act of peculiar intimacy, he took it upon himself to teach her the art of the crossbow, despite her lack of interest in such weaponry. The lessons became a strange dance of their connection, a delicate balance of power and submission.

For Rhaenys, the woodland escapades were a tumultuous experience. The harsh reality of the outdoors clashed with her refined sensibilities. The earth beneath her feet transformed into a treacherous labyrinth, where each step threatened to ensnare her in the clutches of sticky mud. As they ventured deeper into the wilderness, a chorus of crows perched on gnarled branches seemed to fixate their gaze solely on her, their dark eyes penetrating her very soul. It was as if the forest itself conspired to unsettle her, to test her resilience.

Yet, despite her disdain for the rustic surroundings, Rhaenys understood the significance of these endeavors. She grasped the necessity of preserving Robert's interest, of nurturing the fragile connection they shared. These outings into the wild became her offering, a display of loyalty and devotion. She would endure the discomfort and the watchful audience, for she knew that denying the king's desires would only lead to her own undoing.

Little did she know that her compliance held greater implications. The risk of bearing Robert's child before marriage loomed over her like a shadow, filling her with both trepidation and a fierce determination. The expectations that weighed upon her fragile shoulders threatened to shatter her resolve. Yet, a profound understanding took root within her. She recognized that this daring gamble held the power to unravel the carefully crafted plans her uncle and Jon Arryn had woven, plans that entangled her fate with that of Robb Stark, the heir of Winterfell.

And so, she ventured forth, driven by a mix of calculated strategy and the yearning for a future not dictated by the whims of others. The tumultuous path she embarked upon was rife with uncertainty, but in the depths of her being, Rhaenys felt a glimmer of hope.

In the end Rhaenys' audacious gamble bore fruit, forever altering the course of her destiny. The revelation that the very king who harbored a deep-seated enmity towards her late father, Rhaegar Targaryen, had chosen her as his bride sent shockwaves rippling through the realm. The memory of the disapproving gaze Jon Arryn cast upon his foster son and the subtle twitch of Ser Barristan Selmy's hand upon hearing the dark-haired king's proclamation is etched vividly in Rhaenys' mind.

The news of the impending union between the Targaryen princess and the mighty Baratheon ruler spread like wildfire, carrying whispers and gasps from the taverns of King's Landing to the far reaches of the kingdom. The ravens traversed the skies, swiftly relaying tidings across the narrow sea, where even Essos trembled in awe of the monumental alliance taking shape. Amidst the flurry of gossip and speculation, a letter arrived, bearing the seal of House Martell, from Rhaenys' uncle, Prince Doran. It was a missive of congratulations, a tribute to her impending marriage to the king. However, her emotions conflicted and her heart heavy with unspoken truths, Rhaenys wanted nothing more than to toss the letter to the flames, its words devoured by the flickering tongues of fire.

Though her desires urged her to remain silent, Rhaenys understood that the weight of her new role as queen of the Seven Kingdoms demanded a different response. Obligated to act in accordance with her newfound station, she composed a letter, its tone meticulously crafted, extending gratitude to her uncle for his well-wishes. The inked words flowed like a river, concealing the underlying turmoil that surged within her. The truth of her emotions remained locked away, concealed beneath the facade of duty and obligation, as she traversed the treacherous path set before her.

Contrary to Rhaenys' apprehensions, the repercussions of the royal announcement proved to be less tumultuous than she had envisioned. Although a flicker of outrage coursed through the corridors of power, predominantly from the ladies of the court who had harbored ambitions of seducing the king and ascending to the throne themselves, the response was surprisingly subdued.

The silence that enveloped her previous betrothed and his kin was deafening, leaving Rhaenys to ponder the mysteries of their restrained reaction.

In her mind, she had braced herself for an onslaught of fury and indignation from the North. She had envisioned a horde of irate men from the cold lands descending upon King's Landing, their voices raised in righteous anger, invoking oaths and honor as battle cries. Yet, to her astonishment, the anticipated storm never materialized. The gates of the capital remained devoid of the thunderous clamor of northern warriors.

Instead, there was but a solitary letter that found its way into Rhaenys' hands, a letter bearing the distinctive mark of House Stark. Its contents remained a mystery, yet its mere existence spoke volumes. It stood as a testament to the restrained dignity of the North, a stark contrast to the tumultuous emotions that coursed through Rhaenys' veins. She held the parchment delicately, her fingers tracing the sigil of the direwolf, while her heart fluttered with a mixture of curiosity and anxiety.

The delicate parchment, adorned with the regal emblem of House Stark, seemed to shimmer in Rhaenys's hands as she gingerly unfolded the missive. Her eyes traced the elegantly penned words, each stroke of ink seemingly etching itself into her memory.

"Princess Rhaenys,

I extend my sincerest congratulations to you and his Grace on your betrothal. It is with a heavy heart that I acknowledge the end of our intended union. I had held visions of you becoming my cherished daughter, a beacon of grace and strength within the walls of Winterfell. Alas, destiny has woven a different path for you. Nonetheless, I have no doubt that the king, in all his prowess, shall prove to be a worthy husband, while you, my princess, shall undoubtedly shine as a paragon of queenship.

Know this, dear Rhaenys, that Winterfell shall forever hold a place for you within its hallowed halls. As long as I draw breath, your presence shall be welcomed and cherished.

Yours faithfully,

Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell"

Her expectations of the letters' contents were swiftly dismantled, replaced instead by an unexpected sense of solace. The words written by the Warden of the North brought forth an unusual comfort, assuaging the lingering doubts that had plagued her troubled mind.

She had braced herself for the sting of resentment, for a torrent of scornful words that would punctuate the rupture of their intended union. Yet, the absence of hatred within Lord Stark's letter was like a balm for her weary soul. In a realm consumed by politicking and shifting loyalties, the knowledge that she was not held in contempt by the mighty Lord of Winterfell breathed a glimmer of peace into her troubled thoughts.

Ever since Robert's proclamation of their betrothal, worry had etched deep furrows upon Rhaenys' brow. Her mind was consumed by an array of concerns, each one gnawing at her peace of mind. Chief among them was the life within her, the growing seed of Robert's lineage that took root in her womb. Her prayers, whispered fervently on that fateful night when she first shared a bed with the king, had seemingly been answered. Yet, with each passing day, the fear of her pregnancy becoming apparent before she and Robert were wed cast a shadow over her.

The weight of societal judgment loomed large in her thoughts. She knew all too well the consequences of being deemed with child before the sanctity of marriage graced their union. The whispered accusations of whorehood, already slung carelessly by the spiteful tongues of the courtly ladies, threatened to intensify. But Rhaenys vowed not to suffer their cruel words silently. Once she ascended the throne, her power as queen would be wielded with a vengeance. No man or woman would dare defile her name with the poison of that accursed word. The weight of her future crown bolstered her resolve, fueling a fire within her that would not be extinguished.

In the confines of their intimate conversations, Rhaenys had bared her deepest worries to Robert, laying bare the burden that weighed upon her heart. And true to his word, the king had orchestrated the hastening of their impending nuptials, a testament to his understanding and devotion. As the tidings of their advanced wedding date rippled through the gilded corridors of the capital, they carried with them not only the announcement but also a swirling tempest of rumors.

Whispers snaked their way through the court, weaving intricate tales of the princess and the king, each laden with cruelty and curiosity. Amongst the Tyrell girls, Rhaenys had learned, these murmurs had found fertile ground. The conversations they shared over delicate cups of tea had transformed into a dissection of her situation. Such knowledge, conveyed by her trusted maid Taliya, ignited an inferno of fury within Rhaenys' heart. It was an indignation born from the realization that her private affairs had become a subject of public consumption.

The very notion that the courtiers, with their insatiable appetite for gossip, had taken to discussing her so openly caused her blood to boil. While she understood the allure of their curiosity, she could not condone the brazen disregard for her privacy. Yet, Rhaenys found herself drawn to confront these Tyrell girls, to pierce through their facades and gauge the depths of their audacity. Surely, they would not dare to voice their suspicions in her presence, but perhaps they would, propelled by the foolhardy innocence that often accompanied the sheltered existence of young girls.

Lady Olenna Tyrell, the formidable Lady of Thrones, was said to be in the company of these girls on occasion. Known for her unabashed frankness, she became a focal point in Rhaenys' plan. If she were to quiet the relentless rumors that swirled around her betrothal, Rhaenys knew she must either persuade or, at the very least, temper the old rose's sharp tongue. The task ahead was daunting, fraught with the complexities of politics and personal pride. Yet, she understood the necessity of taming this particular storm, for the preservation of her reputation and the stability of her future reign depended on it.

As the sands of time trickled away, marking the dwindling moments before her marriage to the throne, Rhaenys found herself caught in a web of anticipation and uncertainty. Each passing day brought her closer to the grand procession down the hallowed aisle of the Sept of Baelor, a day she yearned for with both eagerness and trepidation. It was the day she would cast aside the weight of the dragon cloak that had shrouded her shoulders for far too long.

Contemplation clouded her mind, casting a veil of indecision over the path she should tread. The question of whether to don the very cloak that Rhaegar had lovingly wrapped around her mother after their union gnawed at her soul. It was the same cloak that her grandfather, a Targaryen king, had draped upon his sister-wife. In its delicate folds, she sensed the echoes of protection and sanctuary, the promise of House Targaryen to safeguard their own. Yet, she could not escape the bitter truth that lay entwined within the fabric.

The cloak, meticulously crafted by unfamiliar hands, seemed to harbor a malevolence, a haunting reminder of broken vows and shattered trust. Rhaenys had witnessed firsthand the anguish her grandmother endured, the horrors inflicted by a husband who betrayed the sanctity of their union. In the face of such cruelty, the cloak became an embodiment of illusion—a mere facade of a harmonious and secure marriage. It whispered tales of happiness, yet delivered only misery and misfortune.

With a heavy heart, Rhaenys weighed her options, her mind veering towards the decision that shunned the symbolic burden. To wear the cloak would be to embrace a legacy tainted by deception, an omen of a fate she was determined to forge anew. In the depths of her being, she understood that the path to her own happiness lay in relinquishing the trappings of the past, in choosing a destiny unburdened by the illusory promises of a garment steeped in bitter history.

The cloak would remain a relic of the past, a reminder of the pain endured by those who came before her. Rhaenys would cast it aside, stepping into her future unburdened, forging her own legacy, and defying the expectations that threatened to ensnare her. In the depths of her soul, she found solace in this choice, knowing that the path she treaded would be her own, free from the shadows of the past and resplendent with the light of her own desires.

In the wake of her decision, Rhaenys realized the weight of the task that lay before her—the creation of her own bridal cloak. Traditionally, it would have been the responsibility of the bride's family to undertake the intricate embroidery, but in the sprawling halls of King's Landing, she found herself devoid of kin. The absence of her family in the capital left her stranded, without the customary support to fashion her garment of significance.

Turning her gaze inward, she pondered the delicate matter, her thoughts weaving through an array of possibilities. It would be peculiar, even inappropriate, to enlist the aid of her maids in such a task, blurring the lines between their roles and her own. However, a glimmer of hope flickered in her mind as she considered an alternative solution—an unexpected ally in the form of Rhea Florent.

Rhea, a distant cousin to the Lady of Dragonstone, had arrived in the capital several years prior. Her presence was initially prompted by the macabre spectacle of the lion twins' executions, witnessed by her cousin Selyse Florent and Stannis Baratheon. Yet, unlike her kin, Rhea had chosen to extend her stay in King's Landing. Amidst the opulent gatherings, she stood apart—a gentle soul with an inherent shyness that set her adrift amongst the other ladies from the Reach. This outsider status had drawn Rhaenys to the young Florent, her own desperate yearning for companionship finding solace in Rhea's company. Though their connection remained more acquaintanceship than true friendship, it mattered little to Rhaenys, for she simply sought solace in the presence of another during the darkest days when her pain and heartbreak threatened to consume her.

Lost in contemplation, she began to envision the design she desired for her cloak, each thread and motif carrying a semblance of her own identity and hopes for the future. But just as her thoughts danced amidst the tapestry of possibilities, a knock echoed through the door of her chambers, pulling her back to the present. Weary of hosting anyone within the confines of her personal sanctuary, Rhaenys let out a resigned sigh, before summoning Talya, her trusted attendant, to grant entry to the unexpected guest who sought her presence.

Talya, the girl who stood faithfully by Rhaenys's side, possessed a delicate and diminutive frame. Despite being only a year younger than her mistress, she seemed to be perpetually dwarfed by her surroundings. Soft, cascading strands of blonde hair framed her face, and her eyes shimmered with the warm hue of chestnuts. Talya's beauty mirrored her kind heart—a rare combination that endeared her to Rhaenys. Among the sea of faces that populated the court, Talya stood as the sole individual who had earned the title of friend, a true confidante. Rhaenys had bared her soul to Talya, recounting the tender and tumultuous moments shared with the king on that fateful night. And in the depths of her sorrow, she had sought solace in the comforting embrace of her dear friend, shedding tears that seemed to never stop.

It was amidst this intimate backdrop that Talya's voice broke the silence, bearing news of a visitor who sought an audience with the princess. "Lady Olenna Tyrell wishes to speak with you, My Princess." The announcement jolted Rhaenys from her thoughts, catching her off guard. Though she had intended to visit the Tyrell matriarch and the hoard of ladies in her palm, she had not anticipated that Lady Olenna would take the initiative to seek her out instead. Concern gnawed at her, leaving her to wonder what motives might lie behind the unexpected summons.

Amidst her thoughts, Talya's gentle voice pierced the air, offering a suggestion to send Lady Olenna away under the guise of illness. However, Rhaenys dismissed the notion, her determination to face the impending encounter unyielding. "No, Talya, that won't be necessary. Allow her entry, and kindly inform the kitchen to swiftly prepare cakes and tea to be brought to my chambers. I shan't tolerate any tales of the old crone criticizing my hospitality," Rhaenys instructed, her tone laced with a mixture of authority and concern.

As Talya hurried away to execute her instructions, Rhaenys rose from her wooden chair, a flicker of amusement dancing across her features as she observed her friend's hastened departure. Talya's hurried steps betrayed a hint of clumsiness, an irony that amused Rhaenys given her role as a handmaiden. A smile tugged at the corners of Rhaenys' lips as she silently wished for Talya's carefulness, lest she stumble and find herself sprawled upon the floor. Despite the slight amusement, Rhaenys held a deep fondness for her dear friend, appreciating the unwavering support and companionship Talya had offered her during the darkest of times.

As Lady Olenna entered the chamber, a glimmer of amusement danced in her eyes, mistaking Rhaenys's smile as a genuine display of pleasure. "I must say, I did not expect My Lady to be quite so happy to see me," she remarked, a sly undertone coloring her words. Rhaenys responded with a laughter that failed to reach the depths of her eyes. She was well aware of the crone's intentions, understanding that Lady Olenna sought to provoke her, yet she refused to be ruffled by such tactics.

"Why, Lady Olenna, I am most delighted to see you," Rhaenys replied, her tone tinged with practiced diplomacy. Slowly, she circled around the round table, purposefully making her way towards the formidable woman. She extended her arms, enveloping Lady Olenna in an embrace, feeling the stiffening of the old lady's frame. Pressing her lips gently against the creased skin of the matriarch's cheek, Rhaenys witnessed a fleeting moment of anger flicker in the depths of Lady Olenna's eyes. Satisfied with the reaction, Rhaenys allowed a self-satisfied smile to grace her face.

"Please, do join me, My Lady," Rhaenys gestured towards the round table, where the anticipation of cakes and tea filled the air. "I have summoned the kitchen to bring forth our refreshments, and they should be arriving shortly. Take a seat, if you please,"

"Very well, then," the old lady said, making her way towards the round table and firmly settling herself upon one of the wooden chairs. Rhaenys positioned herself in the chair closest to Lady Olenna, observing with delight as a faint pucker of annoyance marred the elder woman's lips. Ah, let the old crone stew in her agitation, for it would only serve to facilitate Rhaenys' endeavor to unravel her motives and discern her vulnerabilities.

Rhaenys regarded Lady Olenna with a quizzical expression. "Is there a reason why you sought me out, My Lady?" she inquired, her curiosity piqued by the unexpected visit.

"It has come to my attention that you and I have never had tea together. I wished to change that, especially now that you are to be queen," the Lady of Thrones responded, her tone carrying a hint of intrigue.

Perplexed, Rhaenys probed further, "I fail to comprehend. What does my impending role as queen have to do with sharing a cup of tea?"

Lady Olenna's eyes twinkled with wisdom as she explained, "Well, once you ascend to the throne, your days will be filled with endless responsibilities and duties. There will be little time for leisurely pursuits, such as having tea with an old lady like myself,"

The weight of Lady Olenna's words settled upon Rhaenys, her realization dawning that her future as queen would indeed be consumed by countless obligations. While she harbored no desire to share tea with the elder woman even in the present, she couldn't deny the logic behind Lady Olenna's observation. However, Rhaenys chose not to voice her true feelings.

A sheepish smile tugged at Rhaenys' lips. "I must confess that I haven't given much thought to how busy I will be once I assume the role of queen."

Lady Olenna nodded knowingly. "It is understandable, given that your engagement to the King seemingly appeared out of thin air,”

Rhaenys sighed softly. "I admit, the news of my betrothal to His Grace came as quite a shock to me," she confessed.

"Did it truly come as a shock to you?" Lady Olenna inquired, her voice laced with a knowing undertone. Her leathery hands reached across the table, settling upon Rhaenys' intertwined fingers, their weathered touch contrasting against the young princess's delicate skin.

"I am not sure what you mean, My Lady," Rhaenys replied, her voice poised and composed, masking her true thoughts. She was acutely aware of the underlying question that lingered in the air. Lady Olenna desired to unravel the enigma behind the swiftness of her engagement to Robert, and Rhaenys yearned to hear the Tyrell matriarch voice her suspicions aloud. If accusations were to be made, let them be spoken openly. Rhaenys had no patience for veiled games; she was determined not to allow Lady Olenna to triumph over her.

"It's only that... surely you must take notice of how rapidly your wedding is approaching. Just a moon ago, you were betrothed to the Stark boy, and now, in a mere two moons' time, you will assume the role of Queen consort. It is quite... unusual," Lady Olenna remarked, her words pregnant with implications.

Unusual it may be, Rhaenys thought, her eyes narrowing subtly. Of course, the circumstances surrounding her betrothal were far from ordinary. She had maneuvered swiftly to capture Robert's attention, relying on the fickle whims of fate to align in her favor. Time was of the essence, and she had seized the opportunity with cunning precision. If she had hesitated, the Baratheon lord would have swiftly turned his gaze elsewhere, drawn to other temptations and distractions. The realm's perception of their hastily arranged union mattered little in the face of her impending triumph. In just two moons' time, Rhaenys would marry Robert, and her son would be destined to inherit the realm as his birthright.

"I cannot claim to understand the King's and his Hand's motives in arranging my marriage to his Grace on such short notice. As a mere woman, I do not possess the ability to discern the inner workings of men's minds," Rhaenys responded with a touch of resignation in her voice. She acknowledged the mysterious circumstances surrounding her union with Robert, yet remained poised, refusing to succumb to the taunting tone of Lady Olenna's words.

Lady Olenna's words drip with sarcasm, her tone laced with mockery. "Ah, yes. The mysterious ways of men and their impeccable delicacy in orchestrating your union with Lord Robert. I am certain you were kept blissfully unaware of the whole affair," she retorts, a sly smile playing on her lips. Rhaenys feels the surge of anger within her, struggling to suppress the urge to snarl at the audacious lady. How dare she enter my chambers and mock me in this manner? It appears I have underestimated the audacity of the Tyrells.

Before Rhaenys could retort, Talya gracefully entered the room, accompanied by the other maids who promptly arranged the table with tea and cakes. With a tender touch, Talya placed Rhaenys' favorite lemon cake before her, a silent offering of solace amidst the tension in the room.

Lemon cakes had always held a special place in Rhaenys' heart. They were a delicacy made from the lemons her uncle had specially sent for her. As her eyes lingered on the treat, a tempting urge to devour it immediately tugged at her restraint. However, she resisted, mindful of the scrutiny that Lady Tyrell's sharp eyes would surely cast upon her. An intriguing thought then struck her— did Olenna Tyrell possess knowledge of the life growing within her womb ? Rhaenys doubted it. Even if the shrewd lady had suspicions about her and Robert's secret rendezvous, she could not possibly be aware of the child growing inside her. Only Robert and Talya shared that intimate knowledge. Nonetheless, Rhaenys knew that in due time, her pregnancy would become undeniable, securing her position at court. The rumors of premarital intimacy would fade into insignificance, overshadowed by the birth of a Baratheon heir. No rumors of pre marital coupling will touch her, it wouldn't matter at that point at least.

With tentative resolve, the Dornish girl delicately withdraws her hands from the vice-like grip of the woman seated beside her. "I must admit, My Lady, you possess an abundance of knowledge when it comes to understanding the ways of men. After all, your years of experience with husbands, sons, and even grandsons must have granted you invaluable insight. If only I could acquire half the wisdom you possess," Rhaenys says, her tone light but laced with a hint of irony.

A gasp escaped her lips as the woman seized her hand once more, yanking her forward with force. The sharpness of Lady Olenna's nails pierces Rhaenys' delicate skin, prompting a soft moan of pain.

"Listen closely, girl. Do not mistake me for a fool. I may not comprehend the intricacies of how you captivated the King's attention, but hear this," the widow leans closer, fixing a piercing gaze upon her. "Do not, even for a fleeting moment, believe that the King's choice to marry you signifies love. Men like him do not confine themselves to a single bed. How foolish you are to cling to such hope, thinking that love can be found within the cursed walls of this capital,"

A surge of fury ignites within Rhaenys, prompting her to wrench her hand from its captor's grasp and rise from her seat. "You have gravely mistaken me, My Lady. I am far from being a naive and foolish girl, regardless of how much you may desire it. It is rather amusing that you assume I would seek love from the King. I am well aware that love alone cannot hold a man's loyalty. Why should I squander my affection on such a man? Let me remind you, Lady Olenna, I am not easily deceived," Rhaenys retorts with conviction, her voice steady and unwavering.

A charged silence envelops the chamber as both women lock eyes, their gazes locked in a battle of wills. The air crackles with tension, each refusing to back down. The room becomes a battlefield of unspoken words and simmering defiance.

Exhaustion washes over Rhaenys, her spirits dampened by the encounter with the crone. Weary and drained, she realizes she lacks the energy to continue engaging with Lady Olenna. With a firm tone, she asserts her desire for the Queen of Thrones to depart.

"We have barely scratched the surface of our conversation. It would be wrong to leave it unfinished," the old lady remarks, a mischievous glint in her eyes. Rhaenys can feel her patience wearing thin, contemplating forcibly escorting the elderly woman out of her chambers if she utters another word.

"Excuse me, but I am feeling quite faint" Rhaenys interrupts before the widow can speak again, swiftly calling out to Talya for assistance.

"Talya, please inform Lady Olenna's guard that she wishes to return to her quarters," she requests, her maid promptly departing to relay the message to the guards.

"Well, it appears our afternoon together has reached its conclusion. I shall look forward to our future encounters, My Lady," Rhaenys declares to the Thorn Queen, her tone masking her true feelings. Without further delay, she retreats into her bedchambers, shutting the door behind her. As the door closes, she hears the scraping of Lady Tyrell's chair on the floor, followed by the shutting of her own quarters.

Emerging from her bedchambers, Rhaenys rejoins the common area, where Talya awaits. Sensing her mistress's somber mood, the handmaiden endeavors to uplift her spirits, determined to bring a smile back to Rhaenys' face.

"Would you like me to pour you some tea? It will go well with your lemon cake." Talya's soothing voice pierces through the fog of Rhaenys' thoughts, offering a glimmer of clarity. Determined not to let the encounter with the old crone ruin her mood, she decides to allow her fair-haired friend to brighten her spirits instead of dwelling on her frustrations.

"Yes, please pour some tea for yourself as well," Rhaenys replies, her gaze fixed on Talya's graceful movements. She observes as the tea cascades into the delicate cup, its porcelain surface adorned with intricate blue dyes, depicting a crown of painted flowers. With practiced hands, Talya places the cup in front of Rhaenys' previously occupied seat, enticing her to reclaim her place. The indigo-eyed girl settles back into her seat, her eyes never leaving Talya's graceful presence.

Moments later, Talya presents the plate bearing Rhaenys' beloved lemon cake. "Here, indulge in your cake while your tea is still warm," her devoted maid suggests.

As Rhaenys takes her first sip of the hot tea, a searing sensation tingles on her tongue, causing her to involuntarily curse. Talya's melodic laughter bubbles forth, finding amusement in her princess's minor mishap. Before long, Rhaenys joins in, her laughter echoing in harmony with her dear friend's joyous sound. In the presence of Talya, she finds solace and a profound sense of mirth that she seldom encounters elsewhere. She contemplates if anyone else could bring her the same unadulterated happiness, but the doubts loom large in her mind.

"Must you find such amusement in my pain, dear Talya? It hardly befits your ladylike demeanor. Have I not taught you better?" Rhaenys playfully chides her younger companion. Talya feigns offense, her expression mirroring mock indignation as she swiftly retorts, "I, unladylike? I dare say, I have never heard anything more slanderous!" Their laughter intertwines once more, filling the room as they surrender to a comfortable silence that envelops the princess's chambers.

Sitting within the sanctuary of her chambers, Rhaenys savors the tranquility that envelops her, accompanied only by her dear friend and a plate of delicious cake. Oh, how she longs to bask in this simple pleasure for the remainder of her days. Yet, deep within her heart, she knows that such an idyllic existence can never be. Behind the doors of her sanctuary, they may be equals, friends sharing laughter and secrets, but beyond those confines, their roles as princess and servant dictate their interactions. This realization weighs heavily upon her, a pang of melancholy nestled within her soul.

Talya, her first true friend, is a treasure she holds close, but the knowledge that their closeness must remain hidden from the world is a bitter reality she must accept. It tugs at Rhaenys' heart, knowing that she can never openly express the depth of their bond to others. The limitations imposed by their respective positions dampen the joy they find in each other's company, casting a shadow of disappointment upon their otherwise cherished connection.

Occasionally, Rhaenys allows her thoughts to wander into realms of what-ifs. What if she had been raised as the true Targaryen princess she was? Would she have been bound by the Valyrian customs, compelled to marry her own brother, Aegon? Or would the path have led her to a union with her uncle, Viserys? Perhaps, she ponders, there could have been a glimmer of affection between them. Viserys had been her sole companion during their formative years. But such musings serve only to stir futile longings for a life forever out of reach.

Interrupting her thoughts, Talya's voice breaks through the veil of dreams. "What did Lady Tyrell want with you?" she inquires.

Rhaenys takes a moment to compose herself, her gaze shifting from the remnants of the cake to meet Talya's eyes. "Nothing of importance, my dear friend," she replies, a touch of defiance in her voice. "With any luck, I managed to scare her off today. The old crone should worry about her own grandchildren,”

A mischievous glint sparkles in Talya's eyes as she leans closer. "I heard from one of the ladies in the kitchen that Lady Margaery and her cousins were off stealing kisses from some of the stable boys. It seems Lord Mace has little control over his spirited daughter," she confides, a hint of scandal lingering in her words.

Rhaenys leans back, a mischievous glimmer in her eyes as she begins to share her thoughts with Talya. "Oh, everyone knows that it's Lady Olenna who truly wields the power over Highgarden, her oaf of a son does not hold enough power to dictate the life of his own daughter," she muses, her voice laced with amusement. "As for the girl, well, let her have her little kisses. After all, she's destined to marry Renly Baratheon. It's only a matter of time before her husband seeks his own pleasures with her own brother. If I were in Margaery's shoes, I daresay I would have indulged in far more than just a simple kiss,"

Talya's laughter dances through the air, filling the room with a joyous melody. She nods in agreement, her eyes shining with mirth. These conversations, filled with whispered gossip and shared secrets, transport Rhaenys back to the days of her youth. In those bygone times, when the formidable presence of the Lannister queen still haunted the halls of the Red Keep, laughter was swiftly silenced in Rhaenys' chambers. The queen did not like laughter coming out of her room. But now, with the golden-haired lioness no longer reigning over King's Landing, Rhaenys relishes every moment of laughter shared with Talya.

As the echoes of their laughter fade, Rhaenys can't help but wonder. Is this what it feels like to have a sister? In Talya's unwavering companionship, she finds solace and a bond that transcends the confines of their respective stations. Though not bound by blood, their connection runs deeper than many blood relations she has known. And in that realization, a sense of belonging and contentment settles upon her heart.

She often found it all too easy to forget that she had sisters. Three of them, to be precise, although they were merely half-sisters. The news of their birth had reached her when she was a tender five-year-old girl. Lyanna Stark, her father's second wife, had given birth to twin girls named Visenya and Viserra. It was on that fateful day that the seeds of bitterness took root within Rhaenys' heart.

As she grew older, Rhaenys slowly unraveled the reasons behind her deep-seated resentment towards her sisters. The birth of the twins had marked the turning point, the catalyst that sparked the corruption of her once pure heart. She could still vividly recall that sorrowful night when Lord Varys, the Master of Whispers, had shared the news with her. Tears streamed down her face as she clutched the cloth doll her father had lovingly crafted for her even before her birth.

In a fit of anguish, Rhaenys had cast the cherished doll into the fiery depths of her bedchamber's hearth. The flames hungrily devoured the cloth, reducing it to mere ashes within moments. All that remained were two tiny sapphires, once the doll's eyes, now gleaming amid the remnants of the inferno. Those glimmering gems served as a constant reminder of the fractured bond she shared with her sisters, forever etched into her memory.

The birth of Visenya and Viserra only served to solidify the consuming thoughts that had plagued Rhaenys ever since Rhaegar had forsaken her. With the arrival of Aemon, she had clung to the desperate belief that her father's actions were nothing more than a grievous error, a mistake he deeply regretted. Even after her mother's untimely demise, she had chosen to hold onto the flickering hope that her father still carried remorse for abandoning them.

In a cruel twist of her imagination, she had woven a narrative where her father despised the child borne by the Stark girl. She daydreamed that, despite leaving her behind, he still harbored a love for her that surpassed any affection he could ever have for the bastard boy. Yet, the knowledge of Visenya and Viserra shattered these fragile illusions.

It became painfully evident that her father did not consider Aemon a mistake. The mere existence of another child conceived within Lady Lyanna's womb, while his eldest daughter withered away in a desolate castle, was a deliberate act that bore no resemblance to a mere error in judgment. It was a deliberate choice, a conscious decision that pierced Rhaenys's heart with a cruel and unforgiving truth.

Her father had moved on, had other daughters to call his own. Her father's moving on had left a bitter taste in Rhaenys' mouth, a harsh reminder that she was no longer the sole bearer of his paternal love. Once, she had taken solace in the belief that even with Aegon and Aemon, she remained his cherished daughter, his only daughter. Yet, that comforting notion shattered like fragile glass on the day Visenya and Viserra were born. Her father had other daughters of his own now, and soon after, a third daughter followed suit—Rhaenyra, a name that grated against her own.

The similarity in their names only added salt to her wounds, a mocking echo of the bond she once shared exclusively with her father. And to make matters worse, rumors whispered that her aunt Daenerys had become more like a daughter to Rhaegar than a mere sister. It was a twisted irony that even her own aunt had managed to snatch her father's attention away from her.

As the eldest child, Rhaenys had assumed she would share her parents' affections with her younger siblings. But now, she had to come to terms with the reality of sharing Rhaegar with half-siblings she had never met before. Not only did she have to share her father, but she also had to share her mother, not with Aegon, but with the Stranger—the looming specter of death that had stolen her mother away from her.

Talya's voice, gentle and concerned, pierced through the haze of Rhaenys' thoughts, pulling her back to the present moment. Fatigue weighed heavily upon her, a constant companion in these recent days. The unborn babe within her womb seemed to sap her energy, yet despite the weariness that plagued her, Rhaenys found solace in the knowledge that this exhaustion was a small price to pay for the joy of cradling her precious child in her arms. The love that swelled within her heart overshadowed any weariness that threatened to consume her.

"Yes," she replied, her voice carrying a hint of weariness. "I have grown quite tired. It is best that I rest now,"

Concern etched across Talya's features as she offered her support. She stepped forward, ready to lend a helping hand to the weary princess.

The two women entered the serene sanctuary of Rhaenys' bedchambers, the air heavy with a sense of tranquility. Talya swiftly set about arranging the pillows and sheets with practiced ease, ensuring that every aspect of the sleeping arrangements was just right for the weary princess. Each pillow was plumped, every crease in the sheets smoothed out, offering a haven of comfort for Rhaenys to sink into. The room exuded a sense of warmth and familiarity, a sanctuary from the outside world.

With a graceful gesture, Talya beckoned Rhaenys to climb onto the bed, her movements gentle and reassuring. Rhaenys followed her lead, her weariness urging her to seek solace in the embrace of the soft bedding. Meanwhile, Talya gracefully glided toward the window, her delicate fingers reaching for the blood-red curtain that billowed gently in the evening breeze. As she pulled it closed, the dying rays of the sunset were muted, casting the room in a soothing twilight glow.

With the room now enveloped in a hushed ambiance, Talya turned her attention back to Rhaenys, her gaze filled with genuine concern. "There, that should do it," she murmured softly. "Is there anything else you need, Princess?"

Rhaenys' fatigue was momentarily lifted as she gazed at Talya, her dear friend and confidante. A gentle smile graced her lips, an expression of gratitude for the unwavering support she had received. "No, this is perfect. Thank you, Talya," she replied, her voice carrying a hint of appreciation.

Talya's eyes sparkled with warmth and sincerity. "Call for me if you need anything, Rhaenys," she offered, her voice filled with a genuine desire to assist.

Rhaenys' smile widened, conveying a sense of trust and assurance. "Of course," she replied, her voice filled with confidence in her faithful friend.

Sleep descended upon the weary Targaryen princess like a gentle mist, settling her mind and soothing her restless spirit. This time, as her eyelids grew heavy and she surrendered to the realm of dreams, the chaotic visions of battle and strife were replaced by a more tender and enchanting sight.

In the realm of slumber, a radiant girl emerged, her beauty rivaling the brilliance of the sun dancing upon the crest of the waves. Every delicate feature, every curve of her form, exuded a captivating allure that seemed to capture Rhaenys' heart in a breathtaking spell. It was as if this ethereal maiden held the essence of the sea and the sun within her very being, casting a luminous glow that illuminated the depths of Rhaenys' soul.

With a single glance, the girl wove an enchantment upon Rhaenys' heart, igniting a joy and euphoria that surpassed any previous experience. Even the profound bond she shared with Talya paled in comparison to the overwhelming bliss that now flooded her being. In the realm of dreams, Rhaenys found solace in this mesmerizing vision, as her heart soared to new heights, entwined with the ethereal girl who had captured her dreamscape.

In the enchanting meadow, bathed in the soft glow of twilight, the girl stood as a living embodiment of ethereal beauty. Leaves, like delicate tokens of nature's embrace, found their place within the silver cascade of her hair, shimmering with an otherworldly radiance akin to moonlight's gentle caress. She was adorned in a resplendent white dress, a vision of purity against the dark backdrop of nature's canvas. As if a reflection of her mother's elegance, her hair cascaded in soft curls, intertwining with the pristine fabric of her gown.

Rhaenys' gaze lingered on the girl's exquisite features, finding solace in the familiarity that tugged at her heart. Soft curls, reminiscent of her mother's own locks, cascaded down in loose tendrils, delicately framing her porcelain face. Yet, as her eyes traced the intricate details, Rhaenys' attention was drawn to a subtle revelation—a pair of small braids, artfully intertwined within the silver strands, accentuated by the contrasting darkness of coal-colored hair. It was a delicate fusion of her own Valyrian heritage and the lineage of another, intertwining in a mesmerizing display.

The girl's flawless complexion resonated with Rhaenys. Every contour of her face exuded an air of familiarity, akin to a reflection in a mirror. However, it was when Rhaenys locked eyes with her, that her heart fluttered with recognition. Within those captivating orbs, reminiscent of Robert's mischievous charm, lay a symphony of emotions—mirth, joy, and an undeniable spark of life. Like sapphires reflecting the vast expanse of the sky, her eyes shimmered with a brilliance that mirrored the blue heavens.

My daughter, my child. Rhaenys knew that the young girl who stood before her was the same one she was carrying in her womb now.

As Rhaenys yearned to draw closer to the mysterious silver-haired girl, a peculiar sensation gripped her body, rendering her immobile, just as she had experienced in her previous dream where the enigmatic boy had appeared. It ignited a spark of curiosity within her, weaving threads of connection between these apparitions and her own existence. Could that boy, who had valiantly fought her father in her dream, truly be her son as well? The thought lingered, a tantalizing possibility that begged for further exploration.

Meanwhile, the silver-haired girl, a vision of grace, gracefully rose from the meadow, her delicate form bathed in an otherworldly luminescence. With measured steps, she began to traverse the ethereal expanse, drawing nearer to Rhaenys. A surge of excitement surged through Rhaenys' veins—this girl, this ghostly embodiment, possessed an awareness, an acknowledgement of her presence. The girl's movement seemed ethereal, as if she were untethered from the constraints of the physical realm.

With bated breath and a mixture of anticipation and longing, Rhaenys witnessed as the girl stepped closer, gradually closing the distance between them. In that moment, time seemed to stand still, as if the universe itself held its breath, captivated by the impending reunion of mother and daughter.

The girl's eyes, like radiant orbs of celestial light, surpassed the brilliance of her brother's and father's gaze. Their deep, iridescent hues shimmered with an indescribable depth, evoking an ethereal enchantment that stirred Rhaenys' soul. Her heart surged with an overwhelming desire to envelop her daughter in an embrace, to hold her close and never let go. Yet, an invisible barrier thwarted her every attempt, as if the very fabric of their connection had been severed by an unseen force.

As tears streamed down Rhaenys' cheeks, a profound anguish and grief engulfed her being. The pain, more piercing than any she had ever experienced, pierced her heart like a thousand arrows. It surpassed the sorrow she had known when her own mother had departed from this world, resonating with an intensity that threatened to consume her entirely. The weight of her despair became an unbearable burden, causing her knees to tremble and buckle beneath the crushing weight of her emotions. And as her body yielded to the overwhelming weight of her grief, she sank to the ground, her strength ebbing away.

On bended knees, Rhaenys remained in a posture of surrender before daughter. The weight of her sorrow pressed heavily upon her, causing her gaze to remain cast downward, unable to meet the gaze of the silver-haired girl standing before her.

But then, gentle hands, as tender as a summer's breeze, tenderly cupped Rhaenys' anguished face, coaxing her to lift her eyes. With an unwavering determination, the silver-haired girl mirrored her mother's position, gracefully descending to her own knees. One hand, which had once cradled Rhaenys' tear-stained cheek, now drifted to rest above her own heart, as if beckoning her mother to hear the echoes of a shared bond.

Rhaenys fixed her gaze upon her daughter, her eyes filled with a mix of longing, sorrow, and a glimmer of hope. The girl's lips curved into a bittersweet smile, betraying the weight of her own experiences. As if carried by a gentle breeze, the daughter's voice finally reached Rhaenys' ears, a tender melody that resonated with an underlying wisdom.

The words were softly spoken but carried a profound truth. They pierced through Rhaenys' heart, each syllable etching itself upon her very being. The daughter's voice held a maturity that belied her age, offering a solace that seemed to emanate from the depths of her soul.

"In my suffering, you played no part," the daughter's voice whispered, its ethereal quality encapsulating a profound understanding. "You cannot mend what has been broken... Release yourself from the grip of pain, for it will only devour you."

The words hung in the air, weaving a fragile tapestry of compassion and acceptance, urging Rhaenys to confront her own demons and embrace the healing journey that awaited her.

[fashionbooksmilano]

Esprit’s Graphic Work 1984-1986 

Julie Silber

Photography by Roberto Carra and Oliviero Toscani, Book design by Tamotsu Yagi

Esprit, San Francisco 1987, unpaged, approx 250p , 25×37 cm, ISBN  9780961443726

euro 280,00

email if you want to buy :booksinprogressmilano@yahoo.it

Incredibly rare and iconic, award-winning book published by Esprit De Corp in 1987, designed by Japanese designer and ESPRIT art director Tamotsu Yagi and Roberto Carra (Fiorucci), with photographer Oliviero Toscani (Benetton, Fiorucci, Colors). Housed in it's original printed plastic sleeve, this first and only die-cut cover edition showcases all aspects of the design work of the pioneering Californian fashion company, ESPRIT, from the years 1984-1986. Through it's wonderful, quintessentially Californian 1980's post-modern design, this book profiles ESPRIT's product packaging, clothing and home-ware design, pop accessories, catalogue campaigns, advertisements, various identity and event collateral (party announcements , posters, flyers, business cards), apparel print graphics, and retail interior design by Ettore Sottsass and Sottsass Associates one-of-a-kind, visually dazzling book and a wonderful, rare piece of commercial design history that led ESPRIT and Tamotsu Yagi to win the AIGA design leadership award in 1986. In 1968, American environmentalist, adventure film-maker, conservationist and founder of The North Face outdoor clothing company, Douglas Tompkins, his wife Susie, and her friend Jane Tise began selling girl's dresses out of the back of a VW bus. In 1971, they incorporated the booming business under the name "Plain Jane" which later became ESPRIT, one of the hottest and most successful clothing companies of the 1970's, 1980's and 1990's.From the early days running out of the Tompkins' apartment in San Francisco, Douglas Tompkins titled himself "image director", overseeing all aspects of the company's image, from store design to catalog layout, while his wife served as design director. In 1984 the role of art director was taken up by Japanese designer Tamotsu Yagi. All facets of design were of primary importance to ESPRIT. From the iconic logo design by John Casado (who aslo designed the first Apple Macintosh Computer logo and album covers for the Doobie Brothers) to the ESPRIT store and office interiors by Ettore Sottsass (of Memphis Design Group and Sottsass Associates) to the fashion campaign photography of Oliviero Toscani (also well-known for his controversial campaigns for Benetton, work with Fiorucci, and co-founder of Colors magazine), ESPRIT was a total design vision of the 1980's .

15/01/23

orders to:     booksinprogressmilano@yahoo.it

ordini a:        booksinprogressmilano@yahoo.it

twitter:         @fashionbooksmi

instagram:   fashionbooksmilano, designbooksmilano tumblr:          fashionbooksmilano, designbooksmilano

[thebiggerbear]

Masks - Dean x Castiel - Prompt Response

A/N: (this was written in late November 2020) So this was something I started after 15x18 aired, in order to challenge myself by using prompts to start writing again. I used the #6 (Mask) prompt for Suptober2020 on Tumblr from @winchester-reload. I didn't submit it since obviously the event was over but I just wanted to try this one & give credit for the prompt. This is my first time ever writing for this fandom & these characters/this pairing. I know it's not very good but after how things ended, I feel a little more okay about sharing it. Any mistakes are mine since it's not beta'd/edited. This was inspired by a moment that happened between my grandparents while we were attempting to dine outdoors a couple of weeks ago. It was too cute not to try to bring in for one of my favorite fictional couples.

Unbeta'd so all mistakes are mine.

Taglist: @avada-kedavra-bitch-187; @rieleatiel

Destiel Taglist: @nancymcl

Dean, Cas, and Jack sat at the table, waiting for Sam to return with their food. 

Jack glanced around as they sat on the sidewalk, mournfully watching as people passed by, walking their dogs and keeping a good distance from the tables area. He was particularly aggrieved when a wheaten terrier puppy approached them excitedly and he grinned, reaching a hand out to pet the cute animal when the owner yanked on the leash, effectively pulling the puppy away while shooting a dark glare in Jack’s direction. He stared after them as they left, turning back to find Cas giving him a sad but understanding smile.

“I don’t understand,” Jack started. “I have my mask on.”

“People are scared, Jack. This...virus is something they don’t understand. They’re just being careful.”

Dean snorted from Cas’ left. “People are dicks.” At Cas’ exasperated look, Dean elaborated, “What, you’re telling me they couldn’t let the kid pet the dog for one damn second? Come on. I get it, they’re being safe, but that’s just overkill.”

Jack glanced back and forth between them, noticing Cas’ annoyed expression barely hidden beneath his mask in response to Dean’s unapologetic one. A small smile formed on his young face as he prepared to ask the question he had been wanting to ask for a while now. “Can we get a dog?”

Dean’s and Cas’ eyes both widened. 

Jack hurried to reassure them and explain. “It’s just, I’ve never had a pet. A dog, I mean,” he hurried to clarify, not mentioning the snake he had once taken in. No one spoke about Felix and what had followed after his brief time in the Winchester home. “And I like dogs. They’re furry...and nice.”

Cas exchanged knowing glances with Dean, and he quickly responded before the latter could. “Jack, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Jack’s face began to fall as fast as the disappointment settled within his chest. They were still worried about what happened with Felix. “But...I have a soul now…”

Cas’ blue eyes saddened but before he could reassure his son, Dean spoke up. “Kid, that’s not what this is about.” Jack’s eyes snapped to his and though it was nearly difficult to see due to the mask on his face, he could imagine Dean’s restrained smile as he fought to explain. “With what we do, it wouldn’t work too well. We go out on hunts all the time and we can’t take it with us. Who would be there to walk it, to feed it? It would be stuck in the bunker all day long. That’s not a good life for a dog.” 

Jack, not expecting Dean’s response and seeing the slightest opening, jumped on the opportunity. He hadn’t realized this would be part of their reservations, their reluctance to let him have a pet. This he had an answer for. “But, I’ll take care of it. I’ll take it out for walks, and I’ll feed it when it’s hungry. I’ll play with it when it gets bored. I’ll stay with it when you guys go out on hunts. I could take it with me when I go out on mine. I’ll take it outside a lot. You won’t have to worry about anything, I promise.”

Dean leaned slightly forward. “I don’t know, Jack. What, are you going to keep it in the motel when you’re out hunting monsters? Come on, kid. That’s not a good plan.”

Jack nodded eagerly. “There’s lots of places that take dogs now.” 

“And if gets sick? Or hurt?”

“I’ll take it to the animal hospital.”

“And if there isn’t one?” Dean still wasn’t convinced.

“Every town has a veterinarian.” Jack had already looked up all of this information online a week ago when he had been in his room. He had just waited for the right time to ask.

“It would need to be housetrained if it’s not and that’s a lot of work, kid. You ready for that?”

Jack gave a resolute nod. “Yep.”

Cas glanced towards Dean whose eyes stayed fixated on Jack, assessing him. After a moment, Dean nodded before leaning back in his chair. “Okay.”

Jack was speechless, his grin so wide he was barely able to contain his excitement.

“Okay?” Cas asked, puzzled.

“Yeah.” Dean shrugged. “The kid wants a dog and he’s saying he’ll take care of it, I think we should give him the chance.”

“I will, I promise.” Jack was delighted. 

Dean lifted a finger. “But you better keep up your end of the deal, you got me? We’re talking cleaning up the hair, picking up the poop, keeping the dog off my car seats, bath time -- all of it.” At Jack’s happy nod, Dean shifted in his chair. “Alright, we’ll head to the nearest shelter and start looking so you better start thinking of names. And none of that crap like Ruffles or Foofoo, either. I can deal with having a dog around but you give it a name like that…” Unable to finish, he made a sweeping motion with his hand, strongly indicating that Jack should not do that. The kid eagerly nodded in agreement. “Good. So we’ll go, after we eat. Now, where the hell is Sam with my burger?” Dean glanced in the direction of the restaurant.

“Thank you, Dean,” Jack offered softly.

Dean turned back to catch the gratitude and happiness shining brightly in Jack’s light blue gaze. After a moment, he lowered his own and did his best to give an unaffected nod. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Cas studying him, his head tilted and the barest hint of a squint. “What?” He barked out.

Cas narrowed his eyes further.

“Don’t give me that. You are not getting a cat. A dog is one thing but a cat? They throw up everywhere, they lick themselves, they bite and scratch, they look at you like they want to kill you all the time...yeah, that’s not happening.” A moment later, Dean chanced a glance in Cas’ direction. 

Cas was still studying him, but eventually his eyes softened. “Okay,” he agreed.

“Okay?” Dean asked in shock, though he tried to recover his surprise and appear more confident in his decision about the cat thing. Like he had so many times before when Cas brought up the possibility. Dogs he could get behind, but cats...no, he just couldn’t. 

He had nothing against the species but he had no desire to have a bundle of fur around that had sharp claws and canines at the ready should it feel threatened. And in Dean’s line of work, there was bound to be at least once or twice that might happen should something pop in unexpectedly or storm the bunker. Dean had already experienced feline wrath once when he and Sammy were kids. At one of the motels John Winchester had dropped them off at while he went on one of his hunts, Sam had found a stray cat near a dumpster, and after Dean had discovered its hiding place near Sam’s bed and lots of begging from his younger brother, it had stayed for the night. The cat seemed to love Sam, curling up next to him, eager to be petted, purring its contentment. Dean wasn’t sure what to make of it but Sam seemed happy; he just hoped his father would allow them to take it with them, if for nothing else, to keep that happiness on Sam’s face a bit longer. 

Once his brother had fallen asleep, Dean, unable to contain his curiosity, attempted to pet the animal. He had never had a pet before, they had been moving around for years and never really had a home themselves, never mind a place for a pet to live in. But what followed the hesitant pats on the cat’s head and body was a whirlwind of feline fury. Sam had immediately woken up, moved the cat away, and attempted to help tend to Dean’s cuts on his hand and arm, making sure to clean them out effectively. Dean never approached the animal again. He dutifully acquired cans of cat food and handed them to his brother when it came time to feed the little monster, but he kept his distance.

Needless to say, as irritated as John Winchester was a few days later when he returned, they made a pit stop at the local shelter on the way out of town, with Sam sniffling and scrubbing the tears away at the two words John had snapped out in response to his son’s pleas, “No animals.” Dean had quietly attempted to assuage his brother’s pain as they traveled to their next destination, distracting him with questions about the newest book he had managed to sneak out of the library two days earlier when Sam had insisted on finding information he could jot down in a notebook on the care of cats. Some nerd crap having to do with rings and wizards. His ploy had worked and Sam had gotten lost in the explanation of the world of hobbits and elves while Dean forced himself to look mildly interested. Sam had been smiling again at the end of the ride; it had been worth it. Dean swallowed, forcing the memory away as he clenched his left hand into a fist, remembering the sites of the bites and scratches from all of those years ago. So yeah, no cats. Not in this lifetime.

“Okay,” Cas repeated. He leaned in ever so slightly and let his hand cover Dean’s right one, gently squeezing. “I already have what I want.”

Dean gulped at the loving intensity he saw staring back at him. It still took some getting used to, the love that the angel had for him. Cas looked as if Dean was his whole world, his universe, and even though the latter knew the truth of those feelings behind those eyes, it was still something that he was trying to adjust to. Dean wasn’t used to being the focal point of someone’s affection, not quite like this, and he struggled daily to come to terms with it, but he was getting better. With Cas’ unending devotion and careful adoration, he was slowly starting to come around to the idea that he was worthy of someone’s love. It wasn’t easy for him but he was making progress. Cas never pushed him, never pressed for more than Dean was willing to give. He was just there, serving as a silent reminder (and sometimes a vocal one) that Dean Winchester deserved to be loved. 

Dean’s eyes snapped to Jack who was watching them closely, his eyes still bright in his happiness from a moment ago, and Dean remembered that they weren’t alone, not surprised that they had managed to get lost in the bubble they repeatedly found themselves in when Cas did and said things like this. He swallowed again for good measure and gave a nod, looking away to focus on the other side of the street to gain his bearings once again. Cas went to knowingly remove his hand but not before Dean discreetly brushed the angel’s palm with his thumb. “Yeah, you do,” Dean let out in the quietest of whispers and he didn’t need to look to know that the angel’s eyes were now crinkled at the corners from the smile that Dean imagined was sitting below the mask. He knew Cas had heard him; as Cas had pointed out to them many times before, being a celestial being had perks such as sharp hearing. And right now, that fact came in handy.

Cas moved his hand to Dean’s shoulder, squeezing affectionately before letting go, and sat back in his chair. One of the things Dean appreciated most about the recent development of their relationship: Cas giving him time to process each and every one of these little moments between them. 

Dean swallowed for a third time and then cleared his throat. “Alright seriously, where the hell is Sam? Is he cooking the damn burgers himself? Because let me tell you, if he is, I’m heading to the hot dog cart down the street. There’s no way in hell he’s getting me to eat a veggie burger or tofu or any of that crap.” He grimaced at the thought. 

Cas chuckled next to him, a sound that made Dean tip his lips up in a small smile. Cas seemed to relax more once he had returned from The Empty. He was...lighter and a little more loosened up in manner. It took Dean some time to work out that the marked change was that the angel was happy . And a happy Cas took some getting used to. Sure, he had seen Cas laugh before, smile wide, and even crack a joke (it had been the absolute worst knock knock joke Dean had ever heard but Sam had laughed, typical), but this was different. Happiness seemed to radiate from his very being and Dean still struggled to accept that some of that was due to him and his changing role in Cas’ life. But the more time he spent with this new Cas, the more he himself relaxed and felt somewhat lighter, too. And before long, he realized that he really enjoyed being around Happy Cas.

“I’ve eaten one of Sam’s burgers before. I think it was turkey.” Dean stared, horrified at Jack’s revelation. “I liked it.”

Dean shook his head, closing his eyes in disbelief. “Kid, you did not just say that.”

“I do. It was good.” Jack shrugged, not bothered in the slightest at Dean’s exasperation. 

“I’m going to have a word with Sammy when he gets back,” Dean threatened before turning to Cas with a finger in the air. “No kid of ours is eating turkey burgers, soy, or any of that garbage. Sam wants to go full on health nut, fine. But burgers are where I draw the line. I mean it, Cas.”

Cas inclined his head in Jack’s direction. “But if he enjoys it…”

Dean rolled his green eyes and leaned forward. “Aw, hell. Alright, kid, listen to me and don’t you ever forget it. There are three things you don’t mess with.” Jack leaned in closer, nodding, intent on finding out what those three things were. “Burgers, bacon, and beer,” Dean counted off on his fingers. “The three B’s. You got me?” At Jack’s resolute nod, Dean laid his hand back down on the table. “Now, say it back to me.”

“Burgers, bacon, and beer,” Jack repeated, a little uncertainty coloring his tone. When Dean gave him an approving nod, Jack smiled proudly.

“And don’t you ever forget it,” Dean finished, sitting back in his chair. 

“How could beer be messed with?” Jack seriously mulled it over. He now knew what Dean was referring to for the burgers, and he had already witnessed the debate between the Winchester brothers on the merits (from Dean) of regular bacon vs. the health effects (from Sam) on turkey and veggie bacon. 

“Anything with ‘light’ in the label, you avoid. At all costs,” Dean warned him.

“Got it. No light beer.” Jack had no idea what this light beer was or why it messed with beer in general but if Dean said to stay away from it, he would.

“Some people do enjoy light beer,” Cas offered. “From what I’ve read on the articles Sam showed me, it--”

Dean turned a dark glare on the angel. “Don’t.”

Cas was saved from replying by Sam’s sudden appearance. 

“Hey guys, sorry, they’re a little backed up in there. Alright, here we are.” Sam placed the tray down on the table and proceeded to hand out everyone’s order. When he placed a basket in front of Dean, the latter regarded it suspiciously. He quickly lifted the bun and inspected the contents, and more importantly, the meat. 

Sam, who watched him in confusion which rapidly turned into annoyance, had enough. “It’s beef, Dean.”

Dean shifted his eyes to his brother dubiously. Sam had tried to sneak him a turkey burger under the guise of a regular burger at least twice now. He wasn’t taking any chances. Seeing Sam’s confirming nod, he removed his mask and then prepared to take a bite. “No more turkey burgers for the kid.” 

Sam’s jaw dropped and he flickered his gaze to Jack who was thoroughly enjoying his burger. “He likes them.”

Dean chewed his food and managed to get out, “No more. You’ve already got him eating that kale crap. That’s enough. He’s a growing boy who needs his protein. Real protein.”

Sam opened his mouth to retort but Dean held up a hand, shook his head, and pointed to the burger before taking another massive bite. 

Sam let out a sigh, trading glances with an indifferent but slightly amused Cas. They were used to this by now. Sam had always fought the battle for Dean’s health but Dean made sure he lost, every single time. He had eventually given up but when Jack came long, he was determined that the kid would not grow up on microwave dinners and convenience store food as he and Dean were forced to live on for years. But once again, he and Dean were on opposite sides of the issue. Cas usually backed him in their joint quest for a healthier lifestyle for Jack, but lately, the angel didn’t seem as inclined to insert himself in these inane squabbles between him and his brother. One glance and a tiny smile from Cas towards Dean who was heartily enjoying his meal indicated the reason why.

Sam was on deck to make dinner tonight, later at the bunker. Eileen had gone for a supply run that morning and he already had everything he needed to make a healthy and nutritious dinner. He already anticipated Dean’s complaints (funnily enough Jack never complained, but Dean always did, you would think he was the kid) but he knew without a doubt, Eileen would fully support him in his mission. Sure, there were times, she and Cas exchanged a look of disbelief and silent pleas for help from each other when the debates lasted a little too long and got a little too loud, but all in all, Sam usually won because they all loved Jack and wanted what was best for him. On those nights, like he already knew would occur again tonight, he made Dean something else on the side to counteract the vegetables and Orzo that his older brother refused to eat. 

“It’s the three B’s,” Jack informed Sam helpfully. “Burgers, bacon, and beer.”

“What about them?”

“You don’t mess with them.”

The irritated glare Sam sent Dean would have made any demon cringe. 

“I do like the turkey burgers you make, though,” Jack shot Sam a reassuring smile. 

Sam smiled back gratefully, and then gave Dean a smug nod. Dean rolled his eyes and continued eating. He could give Sammy hell later. Right now, he was too hungry to bother.

“Sam, I’m getting a dog,” Jack announced proudly, his grin so wide it looked like it might start to hurt.

Sam’s hazel eyes widened in surprise and he looked to Dean and Cas. The former kept eating but the latter nodded and Sam thought it over, his brows furrowing.

“Dean says as long as I take care of it, I can get one.”

Sam glanced at his brother in shock, knowing how he felt about pets mixing in with their lifestyle. Dean lifted his shoulders in a slight shrug and took another bite. “The kid promised he would take care of it. I think it’s worth a shot,” he managed to get out around his food.

Sam’s eyes snapped to Cas’ and after a moment, he nodded in approval. “Okay.”

Jack’s smile grew even wider and he returned to his meal, the excitement radiating off of him in waves. 

Sam picked up his burger. “So, when were you planning to go look for one?”

“After we eat,” Dean responded, taking a sip of his beer. “We’ll head to the local shelter and take a look around.”

“And I have to give it a good name. Will you help me think of a good name, Sam?” Jack looked to his dad hopefully.

“Of course. Do you know what kind of dog you want?” 

Jack thought it over. “I’m not sure.” He glanced up at Dean worriedly. 

“That’s what looking is for,” Dean reassured him, immediately setting the kid at ease. “A shelter has all kinds of dogs looking for a good home. Me? I’m more of a big dog guy but you...this will be your dog, kid, your responsibility. You pick what you want.”

“As long as I don’t name it Foofoo or Ruffles,” Jack stated eagerly.

Sam shot Dean a look of disbelief and the latter smiled smugly before taking another sip. “That’s right.”

Shaking his head and looking to Cas, Sam asked, “And what about cats?”

Cas’ subtle shake of his head didn’t go unnoticed by any of them. Sam ignored the pointed look his friend sent him, and flickered his eyes to Dean.

Dean shook his head. “No cats.”

Sam scoffed. “Just like that?”

Dean put his beer bottle down, picking up his burger again. “Just like that.”

Sam went to respond when Cas cut him off. “It’s fine, Sam. Cats don’t appeal to everyone. Not the way a dog does.”

Sam gazed at the angel in disbelief. Cas had wanted a cat for as long as any of them could remember. While they were all settled now in the bunker, one big happy family, and if Jack could have a pet, then why couldn’t Cas? Neither of them got to experience that. It was true, having a dog and cat together might prove to be difficult at first, but he was sure they could make it work. It was a big bunker. While he understood Dean’s aversion to pet hair and offputting smells, and his deep dislike for cats in general, why couldn’t he just make an exception this one time? It was Cas , after all. “Yeah, but cats are less work than dogs.” At Cas’ uncertain look straying towards Dean, Sam relented. “You know there are other pets out there, other than cats, dogs, and snakes, right?”

All three pairs of eyes landed on him, Dean’s narrowed while Cas’ and Jack’s were wide. “Like what?” The latter two asked in unison.

“Like…” Sam attempted to think of something small like a cat, something that he could see Cas with. ���Birds,” Dean’s eyes widened and he gave a subtle shake of his head that Sam purposely ignored. “Fish, turtles, lizards,” Dean closed his eyes in annoyance and wiped a hand down his face in tired defeat. Sam decided to put him out of his misery. “Hamsters, guinea pigs. There’s a lot.”

Cas’ eyes lit up in wonder. “Guinea pigs? You said you didn’t have one when I asked. That you were the guinea pig.”

Sam stared at Cas, trying to determine if the angel was serious, but Cas’ head tilt reminded him that yes, he was indeed serious. This was Cas . “Because I didn’t and I was. But forget that, it doesn’t mean you couldn’t have one if you wanted, Cas.”

Cas’ happy smile dimmed slightly when he turned to look at Dean. Dean was staring right at him, his expression pained. Cas gave Sam a short nod. “That’s okay. I appreciate it, Sam, but I don’t need a pet.”

Sam shot Dean a dark look but the man surprisingly wasn’t paying attention to him. Instead, his brother was laser focused on Cas folding his hands and staring down at his uneaten burger. At the softening of his eyes, Sam knew what Dean was going to say before the words even came out.

“A guinea pig might not be so bad.”

Cas’ eyes grew wide once more and he glanced over at Dean in shock. “It’s not?”

Dean continued to study him for a moment. He then licked his lips and picked up his phone. “It’s not,” he confirmed. “Depending on the dog Jack here picks out, it might be too crammed for the backseat of Baby right now. But you and I can drop them off and run to the pet store in town, take a look around, and see if it’s what you really want.” He offered the phone to Cas. “Google it and find out what kind of food it eats.”

Cas took the phone gratefully, a bright smile appearing on his face. “Are you sure?”

Dean clapped him on the shoulder, a hint of a warm smile starting to form, and nodded. The smile grew at Cas’ gleeful expression as he unlocked Dean’s phone and began frantically searching for any information he could find on the small animals. Dean slowly removed his hand after a moment and glanced back up at the other side of the table, seeing knowing grins reflected back at him. 

He rolled his eyes and went back to his burger. “I don’t want it staying in my room, though. I’m not waking up to that thing staring back at me.”

Cas nodded. “I’ll keep it in my room at night,” he agreed as he scrolled. “It says here they make a lot of noise and I wouldn’t want anything interrupting your four hours.”

Dean mouthed ‘great’ and mimed holding a gun up to his head and pulling the trigger where Cas couldn’t see it. Jack pretended he hadn’t seen, either, but Sam’s smug smirk never went away. Not really.

After they continued to eat in silence for the next few minutes, Sam glanced around at all of the passersby and fellow patrons sitting at tables on the sidewalk. “It’s almost like Chuck never really went away.” He shook his head and balled up his napkin.

“Why would you say that?” Dean wondered.

Sam waved his hand around. “All of this. I mean, as soon as we take care of him, a pandemic hits. Kind of weird timing, don’t you think?” At Dean’s worried look in Cas’ direction, Sam immediately began backtracking. “I’m not saying he’s back. I’m just saying it’s weird, that’s all.”

“How about you don’t say it at all?” Dean ground out. “We got rid of that cosmic dick and he’s gone. For good.” He leveled a glare on Sam that clearly indicated the topic of Chuck was closed forevermore. 

“A pandemic is strange,” Cas agreed, never looking up from the phone. “But I highly doubt it’s related, Sam. A pandemic isn’t an exciting story, not to Chuck. No, this happened because of humans. And unfortunately, all of the other humans have had to deal with it.”

Dean appeared slightly relieved and reassured, but then his face darkened again. “Yeah…”

Sam was going to explain that he hadn’t meant Chuck was literally back, but decided to let the matter drop entirely. He began to discuss possible dog names with Jack, and pretended not to notice when Dean leaned over to look at the picture Cas wanted to show him, their heads nearly touching, and the laugh that tore out of Dean as he grabbed the phone back to show Cas something else. He was happy for his brother, knowing that Dean never believed he too could have something resembling a good ending. Dean and Cas were still figuring things out but he had seen the former as relaxed as he had ever seen him. Dean was grateful that their family was back together, long drives in Baby, family hunting trips, Sunday fishing forays for Dean and Jack, Tuesday movie nights, and all. And Sam was just as thankful, especially when Eileen had been added to their ranks. This ending was so much better than Butch and Sundance. They might not have gone out in a blaze of glory but Eileen’s bright smile, a warm laugh from Cas as Dean continued telling a funny story with pure adoration filling the latter’s eyes, Jack’s youthful excitement shining from his face as he talked about his plans for his dog, the world being safe from Chuck...this was so much better than their original desired ending that it wasn’t even close.

“What about...Hank?”

Jack pulled Sam out of his reverie with the odd name choice. “Hank?”

The kid smiled and nodded. 

Sam returned the smile and sat back in his chair. “How about we wait to see which dog you get? You know, if it’s a boy or a girl?”

Jack brightened. “Okay. I will.”

A sneeze sounded from across the table and everyone looked up in time to see Dean let another one loose. He shook his head and sniffled. “Sorry.”

“Bless you,” Sam offered. 

Dean waved it off but Sam watched as Cas grabbed a napkin and handed it to his brother. Before Dean could thank him, Cas pulled him close and pressed a kiss to the side of his head. Dean grimaced and waved him off, groaning, intent on not being coddled. “I’m not a baby, Cas.”

“No, you’re not,” Cas confirmed. “You’re a full grown adult that appears to be getting sick.”

“It’s a sneeze.”

Cas narrowed his eyes and held up the napkin that Dean had thrown carelessly on the table. “I counted two.”

Dean stared at the angel for a moment and Sam smiled when he saw his brother give in. He snatched the napkin from Cas’ fingers and blew his nose. He bunched up the napkin and threw it into his empty basket. “There. You happy?” Dean hurried out, sounding a little more nasal. 

Cas’ smile was blinding. “Very.” Dean didn’t resist Cas pulling him back in to place another kiss to his temple. He grimaced again but didn’t move away, allowing Cas to do as he wished. 

Sam attempted to smother a grin but failed miserably. When Dean sneezed once more, Cas lifted a finger asking if he could take his temperature which the hunter immediately batted away, telling him he was fine and that was never going to happen. Dean then rolled his eyes and took the proffered second napkin from Cas, blowing his nose as he did previously. Jack had managed to pull up pictures of dogs on his phone and was letting them all know which ones he thought would be a good match for him. Cas wondered if the dog would try to eat his guinea pig, if he should be concerned, which earned a horrified look from Jack and another loud groan from Dean. As Sam got up to throw out their garbage, he heard Cas’ promise to make Dean some chicken soup when they got home and assurance that they could go to the pet store when he was feeling better, Dean’s insistence that he wasn’t sick, and Jack’s promise that he wouldn’t let his dog eat Cas’ guinea pig. The younger Winchester smiled. A better ending indeed.

Please let me know if you would like to be tagged for this ship.

dividers by @firefly-graphics

banner by @cafekitsune

Main Masterlist

Main Tag List Submission Form

[eric-the-bmo]

Behold, the Neighborhood Watch cast list! Taken directly from my notes document, accurate as of writing this (s2ep4):

Main Cast

Song O’Sullivan [she/they]: We got a witch! Was sent to the town by their mafia father in order to keep them safe, and had a ritual go wrong three years ago. Has a pet snake and never explains what her job is. 6'3. Lives in 1317.

Markus Jones [they/he/she]: (Bugs, bugs, and more bugs.) A very strange person from Romania with an obsession with bugs and no living family to speak of. Will not hesitate to threaten or even stab others. 5’4 and lives in 1313.

Louis Bon Fontaine [he/him]: The Crooked with a protection amulet, a deal with the devil, and a vampire who’s coming after him. 6’1, looks old enough to be someone’s dad, late 30’s-early 40s. Lives in 1303.

John Doe [he/him]: A monster confined to a human form three years ago, trying to keep his nature and hunger for human flesh a secret as he attempts to make friends and be loved. So far he hasn’t been doing too well in both aspects lmao. 6’10. Lives in 1311.

Neighbors

Shelby Waters: John’s roommate. A go-with-the-flow Twitch streamer who’s a total skeptic of all things supernatural.

Philip Moore: A divorced father trying his best to take care of his daughter. Louis’s neighbor. Revealed to be an alcoholic in s1ep5, though he’s been working on recovering.

Jenny Moore: Philip’s daughter. She’s a brat.

Bob Patterson: He and his wife are residents of 1315, and are collectively awful. Owes Markus a favor since they helped his wife, and in s2ep4 it was discovered he’s a monster hunter.

Karen Patterson: Bob’s wife. She has way too many cats, and in s1 was infected by a strange plant. Leader of the HOA, or is at least part of it.

Emmett: Song’s neighbor. Revealed to have uploaded his brain to AI in s1ep3, and was the one who constructed the Dome. Had been researching the Hunter cryptids, and provides us with information.

Arjun Sampath: Fatima’s husband, he’s a brilliant engineer who used to do government work and created Amira. The Sampath family lives in 1319.

Fatima Sampath: Arjun’s wife. She and Arjun had always wanted a child but were unable to, for several unspecified reasons. She made us fruit baskets when we all first moved in.

Amira Sampath: Arjun and Fatima’s daughter. Is on her cell phone a lot. Recognized Shelby and is a fan of her. Was taking archery lessons with Song before it was discovered in s2 she was a robot and lost her memories of the show’s events.

Kenneth Feinstetter: A loud and boisterous conspiracy theorist who claims to know the truth about this town. Revealed to be a prophet in s2ep4. Specifically, physical touch allows him to view memories; he can’t seem to be able to choose what he sees.

William Kreiger: A horribly socially awkward man with a pencil stache and many rats. Knows about Markus’s bug ability, and is implied to have the same talents but with rats.

Bonnie McMurry: John and Shelby’s new neighbor. A sweet old lady who had a son that passed away a few years ago. Loud music came from her basement at night until she decided to have a yard sale.

Heath Clark: An outspoken trans man who enjoys camping and the outdoors. Married to Sammy.

Sammy Clark: He’s totally the Sasquatch. Claims to be Blessed by Nature and can control birds, a little bit- has the same ability as Markus and William.

Lucretius [Lestat]: An incredibly pretty and charming individual who’s actually a vampire- and Louis’s ex. He moved here just to make Louis’ life worse, and is trying to get with Song because of this. Recently changing houses due to a bug infestation.

Townspeople

Walter Havershaft: The cheerful mailman of Greenville. Introduced in the season one finale.

Kathy Green: The florist. She and Walter like each other.

Jack: The local handyman/everyman of town. Runs a store called “Jack of All Trades.”

Laura Brown: The librarian. Likes to read romance novels.

Joseph Miller: The park ranger.

Vincent “Vinnie” Carbone: Runs the pizza shop.

Harold Wells: A bag boy at the grocery store. A “well, Actually-” kind of guy and carries around an anime body pillow (tf?)

Sunny: The ice cream stand man. Does he know they grant wishes..?

Dr. Amis Sutherland: The doctor of the family clinic, as there is no hospital in Greenville. Said to be a miracle worker.

Tawny Evergreen: An older woman with a flower crown and crochet top. She runs the local coffee shop/ cat cafe, Grounded in Nature.

Jewel Green: An employee of the coffee shop. Doesn't care for her job, has many piercings, and is legally not allowed to spell the customer’s names correctly. Granddaughter of the Crestfallens.

The Crestfallens: An elderly couple who runs the Circle general store [which is totally supernatural]. Very joyful, despite their last name.

Clara: An intern for the botanical parade, and also John’s coworker. Seems to have a crush on him, and has lived in Greenville her whole life.

Minister Jebediah Ford: The Minister of the church in town. A nice and well-dressed older man; he has a garden.

Bob Jr.: The Sheriff of Greenville and the Pattersons’ son.

Jason Chen: A cop.

[unhlnged]

closed starter for @inkedpxges

Rafe Cameron was made for events like this. No, he was actually born for these kind of events. Being a Cameron, he had always been at the center of Kildare’s elite. A born kook prince who had earned his place in society through hard work and ruthlessness – probably mainly through ruthlessness and being his father’s son. He had taken up the reins of the company his father had built from nothing and turned it into something even bigger, something he liked to believe his father would have been proud of.

A smug smile on his lips – he was certainly proud of himself – he leaned against one of the marble pillars of the large patio of the giant old colonial house, overlooking the garden in which the outdoor party took place. Wearing a custom-tailored suit, gold watch (unique family heirloom, not some fashionable accessory anyone with enough money could buy) on his wrist, holding up a drink to his lips, his eyes wandered over the crowd in front of him. Elegantly dressed people standing around, chatting about, sipping from their drinks, eating tiny snacks. He knew a lot of them. And all of them knew him. Soft classical music playing in the background. The musicians were probably members of some highly prestigious symphony orchestra from Europe, and here they played dinner music. The rich were celebrating themselves tonight and they didn’t care about the outside world. They didn’t care that only a couple of miles down south people still were out of power, unable to cool their food in fridges, while here there were ridiculous ice sculptures made by some popular artist standing about, having their own outdoor air-conditioning. For the people at this decadent garden party, the world beyond those hedges didn’t exist. For him that world did exist, but only as a nuisance.

Rafe drowned his drink, placed the empty glass on the tray of a waiter passing by, when he made his way to the decorated tables. The official part of the event – the big celebration – was about to begin. And, being one of the valued members of this community, he was to be honored for his achievements for the less fortunate – or some bullshit.

He found the place card with his name written on it: Rafe Cameron – CEO of Cameron Development.

Taking his seat, he looked at who was high-ranking enough in this community to be placed at the same table as him. The usual suspects. Except –

A frown appeared on Rafe’s forehead and his mouth slightly opened when he saw the red-haired woman sitting across from him. She stood out with her fiery red hair, her even redder lips. But she mostly stood out because she – though looking as expensive and elegant as any of them – wasn’t one of them. He knew that for a fact.

Flaming red hair entangled with his fingers, wrapped around his fist. Intense dark eyes gazing at him. Pupils dilating. Plump lips opening. Soft little moans. Restrained gasps. And the feel of heated skin under his touch…

***

The first time he was at the club with some business associates from Korea. He returned after that with other business partners. Maybe once a month or twice. Sometimes he was there with a business partner that looked very unlike the usual businessmen in their expensive suits. That man was quite the opposite of him, thuggish looking, with greasy black hair, rather short – well, almost anyone appeared short compared to him – wearing baggy clothes, gold chains and even a gold tooth with his ready smile. The two of them seemed way more familiar with each other than Rafe was with the other men. Sometimes Rafe came alone. He would order a drink, sit at his usual table and silently watch the show. Sometimes a smirk on his lips. Sometimes a brooding frown on his brow. He never asked for a private dance. Never, but once. And he hadn’t returned to the club after that one night, several weeks ago.

***

She turned her head. Dark eyes met his blue ones. One moment, he looked at her intently, solely focused on her and her alone. The next moment, it was like he was looking right through her, as if not even acknowledging her existence at all.